Fighting Fate
by Falyyn
Summary: Written before DH, an AU take on the oldest child of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. Fourteen years have passed since Harry Potter defeated Voldemort, and his life is perfect in almost every way. There's just one problem. And her name is Meridy.
1. Chapter 1

Ginny Potter laid her arm on her husband's, drawing strength from him. He looked at her with his legendary bright green eyes. His expression was grim.

Harry Potter had changed much in the years since Voldemort's downfall. Once his enemy was gone and vanquished, he had found himself at liberty to live, and the results had been quite astounding. He had immediately married the witch of his dreams, and settled down to become a surprisingly useful and good-natured man.

After defeating Voldemort, he had started a prominent career as the director of the Department of International Auror Affairs, stationed primarily in Greece. While that meant lots of traveling, he had never minded it, and neither had Ginny. The job was right up his alley, and he had learned to deal with all of the speeches and publicity. There was no getting around it. After conquering the Dark Lord, he was, quite simply, immensely famous, and Ginny had convinced him to direct all of the publicity to a good cause. When it came down to it, he had even found that he enjoyed it.

Ginny certainly did. The wizarding public seemed to view her in the same light as the muggle First Lady, or the Prime Minister's wife. The clever redhead had long ago taken advantage of this, and become considerably tangled up in international affairs herself, using her popularity—for she would inevitably be popular, being beautiful, intelligent, and charismatic—to further her own pet charities and issues. Michael had recently commented to his Grandmama that "The Minister of Belgium passed a law outdating werewolf codes for Mother, because he thinks she's pretty," and Harry had smoldered as Ginny laughed.

Michael. Harry smiled in undisguised pride at the thought of his son. Curly-haired, freckled Michael. He was eight years old and bright, with a distinct aptitude for flying and an open, easy nature. He too thrived as a part of Harry Potter's family, building sand castles with young Greeks by the Mediterranean, and proudly telling the press that his birthday was in July, like his Dad's.

Yes, between Ginny and Michael, his life was just about perfect.

There was just one problem.

Meridy.

In a few moments, they would be facing their eleven-year-old daughter, Meredith.

Meredith—called Meridy—was Michael's older sister. Where Michael was a delight, Meridy was a challenge, and seeing her brought mixed feelings for Harry. She was his first born, his baby girl. But she had never seen eye-to-eye with her parents—especially not Harry.

She had always been difficult, even as a child. Even now, at eleven years old, she was stubborn and sullen, uncooperative and temperamental. Harry argued more with her than he did with Ginny—Meredith was provocative and sharp-tongued, and though such fights always ended with her getting sent to her room, she rarely responded to her father's efforts to maintain a good relationship.

The door opened, and his daughter walked in. "Yes?" she said flatly, clearly not in a mood to be polite, though, after their last "discussion," she had cut the sarcasm.

Harry looked at the envelope in his hands and shook his head. Maybe going to school would make Meridy better tempered. He certainly hoped so.

Ginny looked from her daughter to her husband, and fought a smile in spite of herself. They were so much alike, and neither of them knew it.

Harry had been young and moody once, when he felt like the entire world was out to get him. He'd been miserable, lashing out at those closest to him. Granted, he had been older than Mer was now, but girls matured faster than boys, and Meredith was old for her age, though she rarely acted like it.

It was not easy for Meridy, being Harry Potter's Child. Where Michael had adjusted to the spotlight of it all, Meridy had hidden from it. But Michael was a good-natured little guy, adorable and intelligent, and enormously proud of his famous parents. The comments of the press, when upon rare occasion they reported something potentially hurtful about him, did not bother him, for he was buoyant and as of yet emotionally thick, as his father had been, once.

But Meredith was sensitive, and the wizarding world had never been very sympathetic to her plight. She had been hurt by several Greek girls, whom she had thought were her friends, but had turned out just to be extreme fans of her father's. Michael had never had that problem. Where boys hero-worshiped just as girls did, Michael enjoyed the attention on his father's behalf. Meredith resented it.

Ginny had overheard a reporter ask her daughter once, "Do you ever wish that you were beautiful like your mother?" and she had seethed for days after hexing the journalist. Part of Meridy's discontent, she was sure, sprang up from living in the shadow of her famous and attractive parents, and Meridy had never tried to measure up, probably because it was impossible. Her parents had both had years to grow into themselves before become major public figures—well, Harry had had eleven years, and even then it had been difficult for him—whereas Meridy had been born under the public's eye, and being prickly and sensitive, she hated it.

But back to the matter at hand.

"What is it?" Meredith repeated.

Harry held up the envelope. "We've had an owl from Hogwarts."

To Ginny's surprise, Meredith continued to look glum. "Have you?"

"The term starts on the first of September," he continued. "Your mother and I looked at the schedule, and we can leave for Britain as early as the twenty-seventh, but we'll need to stop in Luxembourg on the way for a conference with the head—"

"Has it occurred to you that maybe I don't want to go to Hogwarts?" Meridy interrupted.

Ginny felt her eyes widen, and Harry raised an eyebrow. "Don't take that tone with me, Meredith," he said warningly. "What do you mean, you don't want to go to Hogwarts? It's the finest magical institution around, and it's where your mother and I went."

"Yeah," Meridy said. "Your names will be fresh on the walls, and everyone will coo and simper 'Oh, you're Harry and Ginny Potter's daughter. How marvelous.' And then they'll say 'Why aren't you playing Quidditch? Your parents did. Why don't you smile more? You're Harry Potter's Daughter, you should be used to smiling by now. How come you aren't pretty like your mother? Why aren't you good at Defense? Your father was. Such a pity. All those good genes gone to waste.'"

"Oh, Meridy, they won't either," Ginny said.

Her daughter's bottom lip quivered almost invisibly. "Yes, they will," she said in a small voice.

"Well, if you just _tried_ flying, I'm sure you—" Harry began.

"Maybe I don't want to fly!" Meridy said, testily. "Maybe I want to play Gobstones, or something."

"Then play Gobstones," her father retorted, affronted. "Hogwarts has a team. But for Merlin's sake, Meredith, do _something._"

Now the bottom lip was quivering visibly. "But what if I don't want to go to Hogwarts? What if I don't want to go to school in a place where all I'll ever be is Harry Potter's Daughter?"

"Look, Mer, there's not a lot of places you can go where someone _won't_ know your dad," Ginny said, practically, and yet unsympathetically, for Harry's eyes were registering hurt, that his daughter didn't want to be associated with him. "You're going to Hogwarts. That's just the way it is."

Now Meredith looked hurt, and, as she always did when hurt, she flared up, and stormed from the room, saying as she went, "Then maybe I don't _want_ to be Harry Potter's daughter!"

Raw pain flashed in Harry's eyes, and Ginny felt anger welling up inside her, anger for her daughter, who didn't appreciate the loving parents that she had.

And then she remembered that Meridy was hurting too.

"She didn't mean it," Ginny told her husband, gently. "She's just angry."

Harry couldn't speak. He swallowed, and then forced out "She's always angry."

Ginny thought about it. He was right.

"But she still didn't mean it."

Harry frowned, but the injury was still in his eyes, and Ginny doubted that Meridy would ever know how much she'd hurt her father with that one simple sentence. She'd virtually told him that she didn't want to be associated with him, that she didn't appreciate the place he held in her life, that she didn't want to be a part of his family.

Ginny went to him and sat on his lap. "Baby, she just hates the publicity. The press hasn't been very nice to her, always comparing her to Michael and—well, frankly, _you._ She just wants to be known for herself. Those friends of hers destroyed her faith in people, I think, and she doesn't know who she is, because she's never had a chance to find out, to be anything but—"

"My daughter," Harry said. "Yes, I got that part."

Ginny closed her eyes. "What do we do?" she asked, in a small voice. "Hogwarts is the best place for her, of that I've no doubt."

"We could give her what she wants." He looked steadily at the wall, a growing anger beginning to replace the hurt.

The thirty-one year old mother felt a small stab of apprehension.

"What do you mean?"

The young girl flopped on her bed, feeling the anger subsiding, to be replaced by the dull ache of misery. She was already starting to regret her words. True, she hated being under public eye all the time, but that wasn't her father's fault. If he _hadn't_ saved the world and her mother, then she wouldn't be here right now. And it _was_ hard to save the world without becoming enormously popular.

Meridy knew she was moody. She couldn't help it. Just as it wasn't entirely Harry's fault that he was enormously popular, it wasn't entirely his daughter's fault that she was enormously miserable. Meredith hated the press. She hated being compared to her parents. She couldn't have put it into those words, of course. All she knew was that she was unhappy, because she could never be half as good as her parents or even Michael, who was a decent flyer and cute. _She_ wasn't good at anything in particular, and the newspapers called her "plain," at best, and one reporter had even called her ugly.

Miserably, she stared into the mirror, willing herself to see something pretty, like her mom, or handsome, like her dad, or even cute like Michael. Michael looked a lot like his Uncle Ron, but he had his dad's eyes, and, being cute as a button with an easy-going grin, he was made much of. Ginny often remarked that the grin had been hers, because whenever the cute-as-a-button youngest smiled and laughed, he or she was likely to be spoiled.

Meredith looked like neither of her parents. True, she had her dad's black hair, but hers was slightly more orderly. It was thick, and cut above her shoulders in an act of rebellion, for her father liked "his girls," to have long hair. In decided vengeance, it waved the wrong way.

Someone had told her once that she had her grandfather James' eyes—she thought it might have been Uncle Lupin. That wasn't a great deal of comfort. They weren't particularly pretty. They were an odd-shaped tawny gold, and didn't seem to fit in with their surroundings. Like Meridy herself.

Those tawny eyes were hostile now, and sore. She thought back to the day before, when a reporter from the British _Daily Prophet_ had yelled. "Hey, Harry Potter's Daughter! How does it feel to be the child of two such talented people, and not have anything in common with them? Your brother Michael shares your parents' love of flying, your father's eyes and your mother's face and hair. Why don't you show us a smile—Melody, is it?"

Her mother had thrown the reporter a dirty look, and hustled her away, but the words had stuck.

Meridy was the black sheep. The one imperfection in Harry Potter's perfect family.


	2. Chapter 2

"I just don't know about this," Ginny said worriedly a few days later, to her sister-in-law and friend, Hermione Granger-Weasley. "It's tearing our family apart."

Hermione nodded sympathetically. "I know. But it's a novel idea."

"But changing her name at Hogwarts, and pretending she's an orphan? Doesn't that seem—well, a little _extreme_ to you? She's _eleven._ You can't make a first-year rewrite their whole identity. She's bound to forget, sooner or later, and let it slip out. It's only natural."

"Ginny." Her sister-in-law put a pretty, trim hand gently on Ginny's shoulder. "Meredith isn't a normal first-year. She won't forget. And she'll never be happy until she gets to see the world for herself, and the world gets to see _her_ for herself. She's an independent little soul. It's only natural that she wants to be seen as Meridy first and Harry Potter's daughter second. Just go with it. Give her a few years to become comfortable with who she is, and she'll come back."

"What if she doesn't? What if she decides she wants to be this other girl forever, and never be a part of our family?" Ginny sounded tearful.

Hermione sighed, suddenly looking her age. "Honestly, Gin, I don't know. It's a possibility. But…what means more to you? That your daughter is a part of your family, or that she's _happy_? Because she's miserable right now, Gin, absolutely miserable. I've never seen such an unhappy child."

"I've failed her," Ginny sniffed. "I should have insisted we spend more time away from Harry's work, not have made her go to so many press conferences—"

"Ginevra," Hermione said severely. "You can't change what you are. You and Harry do a lot of very good things for the world. It's not _your_ fault that you weren't given a daughter who could enjoy your spotlight."

"It's not _her_ fault that her parents haven't always made time for just the family, either," the worried mother shot back.

Her friend sighed. "Look, maybe you could have made more of an effort to shield her from all of the publicity," she said fairly. "What was it that Professor McGonagall told us that Dumbledore said about Harry, all those years ago. 'It's enough to turn any boy's head,' he said, speaking of Harry being exposed to all of his fame before he went to Hogwarts. The same is true with Mer. Only, because it's negative press for her, she hates it. The reporters are cruel to those who don't love publicity, and our Meridy has always hated standing in anyone's shadow. Particularly when both of her parents cast such very _long_ shadows. Give her time. She'll come back to you, when she's ready, when she's made a name for herself besides Harry Potter's Daughter."

"You're right," Ginny said resolutely, wiping her eyes. "I've just got to do this, is all. It's for the best, like you say. But it's so hard," she said, her eyes welling up again. "To give up my baby."

"You'll still have Michael," Hermione said consolingly. "And it's not as if you'd see her much anyway, living in Greece."

Ginny nodded. "She'll be all alone, though. Living in Britain by herself, without her family."

"Stop it," her sister-in-law said sharply. "She'll be fine. She'll make lots of friends at Hogwarts. And Jack'll be there. He'll keep an eye on her," she said, speaking of her son, who had entered Hogwarts the year before. "We've explained to him that he can't talk to her as he's used to. And you can still write her."

"No, we can't," Ginny said, now sniffing again. "It would be hard to explain to her year-mates why an orphan is getting letters from her mother. _You_ can send notes to her through Jack, but we don't want her to have to lie to her friends. Harry's determined to do this properly."

"Is he still angry, then?" Hermione asked, and the sympathetic light was back in her eyes. "He's always been so stubborn."

"Mer is too," Ginny said mournfully. "He's not angry, I don't think—it just hurt him very much. And so he's been being stiff and distant. You know Mer—that hurt _her_ feelings, because, as excited as she is, I think she's feeling a bit abandoned by the way he went about it, and now _she's_ being stiff too. I don't know what'll happen if they don't resolve things before she leaves tomorrow."

Hermione sighed. "They're so much alike," she said, ruefully. "And neither of them realizes it."

"I hope Meredith realizes what she's done, when all of this is over," Ginny said, her eyes shadowed.

"Meridy? It wasn't _her_ idea," Hermione said fairly. "She just suggested it in a moment of anger, and Harry took her up on it. Still…you're right. It's cruel, for everyone. But it's for the best. There's safety to consider too, you know. Harry will always have enemies because of his work, and while Meridy's always been safe with you, it's probably wise not to broadcast where she's attending school."

"That's true. And I _do _want her to be happy," Ginny said. "But I want her to know that we still love her, and we'll be here for her whenever she's ready to come back. I'm afraid Harry hasn't been giving off that impression lately."

"Talk to him," Hermione suggested. "I'm sure he can be brought to see reason."

Ginny nodded. "I don't know how to explain it to Michael, though," she confessed. "He doesn't understand why his 'Mery' doesn't want to be part of the family anymore. He loves the attention. He's definitely my son that way."

"How are you going to explain it to the press?" Hermione wanted to know. "They're going to ask where Meredith is attending school."

"We decided to release a statement that we've sent her to a private school in America, where she can get an education away from all of the attention of the journalists," Ginny said.

"Is she going to change her first name, or just her last?"

Ginny tapped her fingers on the counter and nodded. "We talked it over with McGonagall, and we're just going to use her middle name. The press gets her name wrong so often—probably because she does everything she can to avoid them—that I doubt anyone will recognize it. And she doesn't look enough like either of us to rouse anyone's suspicions. We've spent so little time in Britain over the last few years that I doubt many will even remember we've a daughter entering Hogwarts this year. She's going to take the surname Black, after Sirius, she says."

"Does Harry know yet?" Hermione asked, with a slight smile.

"No," she said. "And Meridy's not going to tell him; I won't either. It's between the two of them, and they're going to have to sort it out themselves."

Her sister-in-law nodded. "Very wise of you. Oh—goodness, is it twelve o' clock already? I promised Jack I'd take him to Diagon Alley to get him an owl for his birthday, though we got all of his supplies last week."

Ginny laughed, but it was shaky. "We got all but Meredith's books in Greece. And her wand. She loves the Mediterranean, even if she hates what living there represents."

"What's it made of?" asked Hermione with interest.

Ginny gave her a look that was half guarded and half exasperated. "I don't want to talk about it. If the dratted thing lasts halfway through the year without hurting anyone, I'll be amazed. "

"What's it made of?" Hermione repeated.

"I have no idea," Ginny said grumpily. "Meredith met this wrinkled old hedge witch in muggle Crete. The woman looked like she had Harpy blood. Mer mentioned that she was starting school and the woman looked her over and asked if she'd bought a wand yet. When Mer said no, the woman cackled and invited us in for tea. I was afraid to say no; she looked as if she'd curse us for refusing, and you know how politics work, you've always got to be nice to _everyone._"

"And?" Hermione asked, impatiently.

"It turned out that she'd been a wand collector in her prime, which was sometime last century," Ginny continued, still more grumpily. "She said she'd given away all but one, which she'd never been able to bear with parting with, because wasn't for an ordinary young thing to handle. I'm telling you, 'Mione, the whole thing was spooky. And then she said that Mer had the look of someone who needed a powerful wand, with a temper to match the user."

"Get on with it," her friend urged.

"I'm getting there. So then she pulls out this wand, and hands it to Meredith. Hermione, the ground shook when she took it. Meredith, of course, was delighted. The old woman _said_ that it was made of olive wood and—and a Gorgon heartstring, but she was senile, so I'm not so sure. I _hope_ it's not, anyway. Who in their right mind would hand an eleven-year-old a wand with a Gorgon heartstring? How many of _those_ are lying around, these days? Anyway, I couldn't say no, not after it had recognized Meredith and all."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Greek mythology is fascinating, and scholars these days think that Medusa at least really did exist. If we could just research—"

"Hermione. No," Ginny said severely. "It's bad enough that she has the dratted thing; let's just hope that she doesn't do much damage with it. Anyway, didn't you say you were taking Jack somewhere?"

Her sister-in-law rose reluctantly. "Yes."

"I'd best be off, then." She stood up and drained her teacup, before going to the fire to floo. "I'll see you soon, I expect."

She had her hand in the floo powder jar when Hermione stopped her. "Ginny?"

"Yes?" she said, pausing.

"Don't be too hard on Meredith. Last week, Aurelie said," and Hermione paused herself, apparently looking for tactful words. Aurelie was Bill and Fleur's oldest daughter, and she was a fourth-year at Hogwarts. "Aurelie said that her first year, all she heard in the halls were the whisperings 'That's Harry Potter's niece. Do you think she could get us an autograph?' She and Jack were speaking of it. Aurelie's in Ravenclaw, you know, so she didn't have it quite so difficult, but Jack said that the first month, being in Gryffindor too, that was all he heard about, was Uncle Harry this, and Uncle Harry that, from the teachers as well as everyone else. It's got to be rough on Meridy."

Ginny nodded. "I know."

Hermione sighed. "Just making sure."

Meridy stood beside her trunk, biting her lip and stubbornly fighting tears. After getting her to King's Cross, a disguised Ginny had kissed her quickly, pressed a note into her hands, and left, lest they be seen together. Her dad hadn't even bothered that much. Harry had been called off to business the day before, and he hadn't bothered to say goodbye to his only daughter.

She glanced up at the barrier between platforms nine and ten, feeling quite alone. Despite her elation at finally getting to go somewhere where people wouldn't know her as Harry Potter's daughter, she had a knot in her stomach that was directly related to the fact that that same Harry Potter hadn't made time to say goodbye.

Her owl, Alexandra, hooted. Alex was a soft brown, and lightly built. She had been a birthday present from her father, on her eighth birthday, because she'd spent the next summer in Britain with her Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione while her parents and Michael attended conferences in Southeast Asia.

Meridy wouldn't be sending—or receiving—much mail through Alex this year. But she'd wanted her along, anyway. Alex was a friend—about the only friend she had, right about now, because part of her parents' decision to send her under the name Melissa Black was that she couldn't talk to her cousin Jack, much, or her cousin Aurelie. At least not where people could see.

Nevertheless, Meridy was excited. To get to be someone new! To go somewhere where no one would ask her what it was like, having Harry Potter for a father! It would be wonderful.

With that image firmly in mind, she grasped her trunk handles, squeezed her eyes shut, and walked towards the barrier. She knew she wouldn't crash. Dad had told her all about the barrier, and the Hogwarts Express, years and years ago.

When she came through on the other side, she opened her eyes, and her jaw fell open at the sight of the engine. It was even bigger than her dad had said, and so red!

There were kids _everywhere_, rushing about, kissing their parents goodbye, and loading trunks.

"Oh, Mark," one mother said tearfully. "Be good this year, won't you?"

"And take care of your sister," Mark's father added, his expression amused, as he ruffled the hair of a pretty blonde girl.

Mark scowled. "All right, but she'd better not go tagging along after me," he said.

As the mother started scolding him, Meridy looked away. She was starting to feel abandoned again.

So she went to put her luggage away, baring her teeth with the effort of turning her trunk.

"Need help?" a tall boy asked her. He had light brown hair and greenish eyes.

Meridy nodded. "Yes, please," she told him, gratefully.

He reached over and took the handles, and began pulling it to the train, briskly.

She had to trot to keep up, which annoyed her. But she felt she had to be polite, nevertheless. "What's your name?" she inquired.

He glanced at her, and his mouth curved up—she couldn't tell if it was a smile or a smirk. "Malfoy. Gary. Are you a first year?"

Wordlessly, she nodded. His name sounded familiar. She was sure she'd heard Dad mention it before. Well, when she got to Hogwarts, she'd sit down and write Dad a letter asking, and send it with Alex before—

Except she wouldn't. Because when she got to Hogwarts, she would be Melissa Black, and Melissa Black didn't have a father to write to.

Gary loaded her trunk almost without effort. "There you are," he said, and strolled off.

"Thanks!" she called softly after him, figuring, better late than never.

Now burdenless, she boarded the train. It was made up mostly of small compartments that could seat several people, most of which were already full.

Unbothered by the solitude, Meredith sat down in an empty compartment, and looked out the window at the station.

Minutes passed, and no one came to sit near her. She began to wish that she had brought something to do; a book, or something.

Just as the train started to move, a small girl fell into the compartment.

"Ouch!" she cried, shaken by the train's movements. "Oh—do you mind if I sit in here?"

Meredith shook her head. "No," she said, not sure if she was pleased or disgruntled at having someone to talk to.

The girl sat down. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. "I'm Leda Pearson," she said, cheerfully.

"Really?" Meridy asked with interest. "Like the Greek myth?"

Leda giggled. "Yes. My brother says that I'm too ugly for _anyone_ to fall in love with, though, much less someone like Zeus. But Mum says not to listen to him."

"You shouldn't," Meridy said, thinking of Michael, and resisting the urge to add something about him. Melissa Black was an only child.

"But what's your name?" Leda asked, with equal interest.

"Melissa Black," Meridy said, feeling distinctly proud of herself; she said it casually, as if she'd been saying it all her life.

Leda smiled. "That's a pretty name. Do people call you Melissa, or just Mel?"

"Well…" Meridy wondered desperately why she hadn't thought of this. Of course, Melissa would have a nickname. "It depends. But you can call me Mel."

"Okay," the blonde girl said. "Oh!"

For the train gave a lurch, and another girl fell into the compartment.

"I'm sorry," the girl gasped, as the car rocked again. "I just lost my bal—oof!"

"It's all right," Meridy told her, good-naturedly. "Do you want to join us?"

The girl smiled, shyly, and shook her silky, light brown hair. Her eyes were a pale blue.

"If you don't mind," she said. "I've been looking for a place to sit for ages now, but everywhere is full. I was trying to find my sister when the train jolted."

"Leda Pearson," Leda said, extending a hand. "And this is Mel Black."

The girl took the offered hand. "Kali Gordon. Well met."

The three girls spent the rest of the journey exchanging stories about their lives and families. Meridy listened all she could, and when she could not, she made up a tale about a feigned childhood with her aunt.

All too soon, the ride was over and they were pulling into the Hogsmeade station.

"Robes on!" Kali said brightly, as she pulled hers on over her jumper.

"Yeah, yeah, we know," Meredith muttered—she was having a hard time wriggling into one of her new robes.

After managing it, she stepped out into the narrow walkway.

"Watch it!" a voice said, and Meredith looked to see a pretty girl with greenish eyes. "You're in my way."

Meredith stepped back, and folded her arms. "Are you sure?" she shot back. "Maybe you're just in _my_ way and didn't notice. Or maybe—maybe no one's in anyone else's way, because these halls are so narrow that a single body can barely fit through and hundreds are supposed to. In that case, you have my permission to readdress your complaint to the train designer."

Her sarcasm was evident, but, after looking startled, the green-eyed girl laughed.

"All right, then, Your Highness," she said. "I beg pardon."

Meridy nodded, but a slight smile betrayed her. "Pardon granted."

Then, without warning, they both laughed, and Leda and Kali looked confused.

"Move along, move along," the girl told them, choking the words out. "Nothing to see."

"Nothing but royalty," Meridy managed, and they started laughing again. Still giggling, they went their separate ways.

"Who was that, Mel?" Leda asked, her expression clouded.

Meridy shrugged. "No idea."

"She was rather rude," Kali said, frowning.

Meredith only shrugged again. They didn't understand. The girl hadn't been rude—only prickly. If she'd been rude Meridy wouldn't have found her so easy to talk to. Whereas she'd been constantly on her guard with Leda and Kali, she'd felt much more comfortable exchanging rude words with the other girl.

"Firs' years! Firs' years!" Came the loud booming voice of Hagrid.

Meridy lit up. "Come on!" she said excitedly. "It's—" she stopped. Hagrid was a friend of the family, but she wouldn't be able to acknowledge him as such now. How would an orphan know about Hagrid?

"What?" Leda asked.

"Someone's calling for us," she said instead, as Hagrid came into view, big and beaming. Kali gasped.

"Firs' years! Oh—hullo, there," he said to Meridy, winking. "No more'n four to a boat."

Meredith grinned broadly, but she looked, all the same, to see that Leda and Kali hadn't noticed the wink.

They were by a gigantic, dark, beautiful lake. And by the lake…

"Boats!" Leda said, cheerfully.

Not hesitating, Meredith led the way to a boat near the back of the bunch. Leda and Kali followed her, and the fourth spot was taken by a gangly boy with dark hair whom she didn't know.

They began rowing across the lake at Hagrid's command. It was rough work; at least, it was for Leda and Kali, who both seemed to be struggling with the oars. Meridy caught the dark-haired boy's eye and smiled wryly; they were having no trouble with their end of the boat. But then, Meridy had rowed often in Greece, so her arm muscles were only screaming slightly. And the boy…who knew? Maybe he was just talented.

"Ooh!" was the universal cry, as they rounded the bend, to see an enormous, shimmering castle against the black night sky.

"It's so big," Kali murmured. "I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_, but there weren't any pictures…"

"It's gorgeous," Meredith said, quietly. And it was, big and beautiful and mysterious. Hogwarts. It would be her home for the next seven years. The home of Melissa Black. Could she be happy here?

Preoccupied by her thoughts, she barely noticed when the boats landed, and they made their way up under the castle.

Hagrid knocked loudly on the great door, startling her out of her reverie. She glanced at her new friends. Their faces were pale.

The door opened.

A man stepped out, a man wearing all black with black hair. He looked to be about twenty years older than Meridy's father.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," he said, in a slippery sort of way, and she felt shock radiate through her.

This was Snape, her grandmother's cousin. He and her father didn't get on very well, and so she hadn't seen him since she was quite small, though her mother visited him every couple of years when they were in Britain.

Would he recognize her? Did he know who she was? Had Professor McGonagall told him not to call her by her given name?

Unaware of her frantic thoughts, he continued, as he led them through the hall. "I am Professor Snape, the Deputy Headmaster. In a few minutes, the Sorting Ceremony will begin. Have one of your prefects explain the point system to you before the night is out. I can't be bothered by it at the moment. Wait here."

So saying, he swept away.

Meredith shook her head, a little dazed by his abrupt, cynical way of speaking. But he'd reminded her of something.

_The Sorting. _

There were four Hogwarts Houses: Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. Her parents had both been in Gryffindor; and so had _their_ parents, and all of her mother's brothers.

It was only to be assumed that she, Meredith, part of Harry Potter's perfect family, would be in Gryffindor too.

Meridy set her jaw. Her father had been in Gryffindor: therefore, _she_ would not. It was time to break the mold, to be something different. She would simply have to talk the Sorting Hat into putting her somewhere else. She knew you could talk to it; both of her parents had told her so.

But where to go? Ravenclaw wouldn't be bad, she supposed, although it sounded a bit boring. And Hufflepuff sounded…unoriginal. But Slytherin. Her father _hated_ Slytherins. Wouldn't it show him up, if his oldest daughter became one of them!

Her jovial mood flattened. Even at eleven she recognized her thoughts as being juvenile and petty, wanting to hurt others because she herself had been hurt. A month ago she would have said that her Dad would be proud of her no matter where she was Sorted. Now she wasn't so sure.

Snape returned. "Follow me," he said curtly, his eyes traveling over each of them. They lingered the longest on Meridy, but she met them determinedly.

They strode silently through the halls once more, and she wasn't distracted enough not to notice that her year-mates, previously nervous, had been getting paler and paler.

Finally, they entered the Great Hall. It was gigantic, and the ceiling was lit up with stars. "Pretty," Leda mouthed.

The other students were all watching the first years. Meridy took a deep breath, as the hat was brought out and set on a stool. It paused, and then opened its brim to sing. Several students gasped.

_Don't judge my looks, for I have told_

_More than first-year books will hold._

_It's time to sort, for the time is near_

_To learn the House to hold you here._

_There's Hufflepuff, ye fair and true_

_Helga's choice she'll never rue._

_Or Slytherin, my wise old friend_

_A cunning foe achieves his ends._

_There's Ravenclaw, the quick of wit_

_Knowledge added bit by bit._

_Last I tell of Gryffindor brave_

_Honor besting every knave._

_Those are the four; to one you'll go_

_And make that happy House your home._

Meridy looked around, noting that the hat sounded a bit menacing on the line about Gryffindor—almost like it was threatening something.

"Ashan, Toran," Snape called, before people could finish processing the hat's song. He was reading from a scroll, commandingly. A dark-skinned boy came forward, to sit on the stool.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat yelled.

"Beden, Kit!"

Meridy found that she was so nervous her hands were shaking. Did they have to try on the hat in front of everyone? She _hated_ getting up in front of people.

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Black, Melissa."

Meridy simply stood for a moment, and then she started. That was her. Black, Melissa.

She made her way numbly up to the front, feeling cold and like everyone was looking at her. But for once, it wasn't because she was Harry Potter's daughter, and that was a comfort. They weren't watching with as much interest as they could be.

Jerkily, she placed the Sorting Hat on her head, and waited.

_Well, well, _the Hat said, smugly_. What have we here? An impostor? _

_Yes—I mean, no! _Meridy said, quickly_. _

She had a feeling the hat laughed_. You're Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley's daughter, _it said, and there was satisfaction in its mind-voice_. And a fitting child to them, you are._

Meridy set her jaw. _I don't want to be_, she said_. I want to be different. Put me in Slytherin, please. _

_Slytherin…_the hat seemed to consider it_. You have the desire to prove yourself, certainly. You're reckless, and clever…but the very fact that you want to be different excludes you from Slytherin, for they are champions of riding off of another's fame. You would make yourself a villain, but you're not, though the potential is there. Disguise yourself as you might. You're still a Gryffindor first. _

_I don't want to be! _She said furiously_. _

_Meredith Potter, you are what you are, _the hat said firmly. _The sooner you come to terms with that, the better._ _And you're strong. You're _not_ who you parents are, though, and you can't be expected to be. You're intelligent, passionate, and courageous, with potential that no doubt scares them. Find yourself—in—_

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Furious, Meridy took off the hat, and strode off towards the Gryffindor table. Gryffindor, indeed.

When her head cleared, she began to pay attention to the rest of the sorting.

"Gordon, Kali."

"RAVENCLAW."

Meridy nodded, grimly. She had expected that, after the train ride. But it was still disappointing. It would have been nice to start off the year with someone she knew.

"Kurtis, Dawn." An ice queen glided to the front. Meridy arched one eyebrow.

"SLYTHERIN!" Ah. That explained it. All the cool people were in Slytherin.

"Malfoy, Allison."

It was the greenish-eyed girl from the train! Meridy leaned forward, eyes alert. Malfoy? Like…Gary? Was his name? The one who had helped her with her trunk. They _did_ look familiar. She sat up, hoping against hope…

"SLYTHERIN."

Shoot. It would have been _nice,_ having someone she could be cynical to over breakfast in her house. Meridy let out a disappointed breath.

"Mills, Nevada."

Nevada turned out to be the boy from the boat. In the light, it was evident that his hair was not actually very dark, just a glowing chestnut color.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Meridy raised an eyebrow. All right, so maybe it wouldn't be _too_ bad. She'd gotten the feeling that he would be a friend. They had worked well together.

"Nottingham, Baron."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Olaf, Christopher."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Pearson, Leda."

Meridy leaned forward again.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Beautiful luck, she thought wryly, as a few more people were sorted. Just beautiful luck.

"Santiago, Crimson."

Meridy glanced at him. Crimson had dark hair and pale skin, and a decided don't-mess-with-me attitude. His eyes were guarded. The hat took several minutes to decide with him.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Shepherd, Jacqueline," became a Gryffindor, next. After studying the girl's features (she looked nice, with pretty hair and an exotic face), Meridy felt her interest flailing as her stomach rumbled. She was hungry.

"I'm starving," a voice hissed, down to her right. "Snape always takes forever."

"You'd know, of course, being all of a second year," a tall boy with a prefect's badge commented wryly from across the boy who'd spoken first.

The boy only shrugged. He looked up, to meet Meridy's eyes. His were dark and intense. He nodded solemnly at her, and then turned, to become steadily absorbed in undoing the braid of his neighbor, a pretty brunette who looked to be about a third-year.

Meridy felt her face grow warm. She _knew_ she'd seen the boy before. He looked so familiar.

Not to be caught staring again, she let her eyes roam down the table. Seated right next to the familiar-looking boy was her cousin, Jack. He met her eye, and nodded, with a slight smile, that she returned. Good old Jack. They'd always been close. It was nice that he was acknowledging her, even if he couldn't do so openly, at least not until they'd been "introduced."

That reminded her of Aurelie, and she leaned back to scan the Ravenclaw table for her other cousin at Hogwarts. Sure enough, there was Aurelie, her blonde veela-like swinging about her and making the boys drool. Pretty, clever Aurelie. She was a fourth year, and to Meridy that seemed ancient.

"Xavier, Chism," Snape said, and the last student walked up to the Sorting Hat.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted, and then the Sorting was over.

Meredith ate busily; she hadn't had much of an appetite that morning. Her mother had kept shooting her worried looks over breakfast, and it had been quite demoralizing.

"Hungry, are you?" an older girl laughed, but it was kind. "What's your name, little first year?"

She swallowed before she answered, reminding herself that her name now began with 'Mel' instead of 'Mer.'

"Melissa Black."

The prefect across from her looked up. "Not related to Sirius Black, are you?" he asked, mildly. "I'd thought that all of that line had died out."

"Not all," she said, agreeably. "He might have been a distant cousin, but I don't know. I don't really know anything about my family."

"Muggleborn?" the older girl asked.

She shook her head. "Nah," she said. "At least, I don't think so. My parents are dead, and my great-aunt doesn't like talking about them much, so I don't know for sure." It was a lie she had practiced in the mirror, until she could say it almost nonchalantly.

The prefect nodded sympathetically. "That's rough," he said.

"You'll have a family here, though," the older girl said, and her arm indicated the table. "Trust me, after the first round of major exams, these people are family. If you can survive the first few months, you get to know each other _really_ well. I'm Sandy Burkes, by the way. And he's Kyle Ramsey."

"Nice to meet you," Meridy said, politely. "Is the food always this good here?"

Kyle nodded. "Well—not all days are feast days," he amended. "But the food is excellent. It has to be, otherwise you'd have no reason to get up, some days."

"Listen to them," a boy on her left teased. "Or don't. They're only being so cynical because they're sixth years, fresh out of O.W.L.S. Those are bound to dampen your views on life. It's not actually so bleak though, except for a couple of months. Don't take them too seriously."

"Not all of us can hardly study at all and get ten O.W.L.S., Lindy," Kyle said dryly. "Some of us have to _work._"

"Oh, don't be a stick in the mud," the boy—Lindy?—said playfully, as the main food disappeared and the deserts came out. "Performance is fifty percent preparation and fifty percent sleeping enough the months before. You studied and I slept. Now, if we'd worked together, we would have had the perfect score."

Meridy listened to their conversation with interest for a little while longer, and then she fell to wondering how many first-year girls were in Gryffindor—she hadn't been paying proper attention during the Sorting. Then her eyes started roaming the Head Table. There were lots of professors that she didn't know, but she did know a couple. Hagrid, for instance, and Professor Lupin, who was her godfather. She smiled. It would be fun, having him for a teacher. And she'd met the headmistress upon occasion.

By the time she was finished with this line of thought, the deserts were vanquished, too, and the headmistress, Professor McGonagall, was standing up.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," she said, imperiously. "As always, we have a few start-of-term reminders. The Black Forest is off-limits, and first years would do well to mark that ignoring this policy leads more commonly to death than detention. Older students…Hagrid will inform me if he sees you venturing too near. And Mr. Filch tells me that repercussions for possessing so much as 'dust from the floor' of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes will be noticeably more severe this year."

The second-year boy to her right snorted. "I've got more than that. This year's going to be great."

The prefect gave him a severe, exasperated gaze. "Say that again tomorrow morning, when the term officially begins, and I will go through everything you possess and give the contraband and your name to Filch."

The second year flashed a gorgeous, wickedly intelligent smile. "You're just jealous."

Meridy bit back a smirk. She herself possessed quite a few things from WWW, and had no intention of sacrificing them. Last time she had been at her grandma's house, Uncle Fred had been over for dinner, and he had given her a large bag of prototypes that hadn't been tested, and/or approved by Ministry regulators—to try out at Hogwarts, he said, and proceeded to provide her with detailed written instructions on how to use each one. No one would suspect her, he said, since she was going to be virtually invisible, with no family to be associated with. The only condition was that she had to write and tell him how they worked out.

Suddenly, it occurred to her that McGonagall was still talking. "…new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Hawkins!"

The students all applauded, and Meridy craned her neck to see. Professor Hawkins was a businesslike man with a watchful air, who looked to be about her father's age.

Meridy was confused. Didn't her godfather, Uncle Remus, teach D.A.D.A.?

"I thought Professor Lupin taught Defense," she whispered to Sandy.

Sandy shook her head. "He did teach Defense once, when Harry Potter was at school. He was one of Harry Potter's dad's best friends, you know."

Meridy nodded, fighting annoyance. Not even an hour in the place, and already she was hearing her father's name! Imagine how bad it would be if Sandy knew who she was talking to.

"Anyway, after Professor Dumbledore was killed in the war, and McGonagall took over as headmistress, he started taking the Transfiguration classes," Sandy finished. "He's quite a good teacher, too. Really explains things, doesn't lose his temper."

Meridy did remember being told that, now that she'd heard it again. The story was well known to her. But McGonagall was finishing up, so she didn't have time to think about it.

"Prefects, you may lead the way," Professor McGonagall instructed from the dais. "Welcome to Hogwarts, everyone."

Immediately, everyone rose up, groaning and yawning. "First years, this way!" Kyle the Prefect called. Meridy followed him, silently joined by the other first years. She kept her face down, wanting to avoid any more introductions today. Her head was spinning.

But she made a point to notice where they were going, so she could find her way back tomorrow. The paintings on the walls were fascinating, and so were the tapestries. This would be a fun place to explore, she knew.

The moving staircases alarmed her only slightly. She'd been told all about them, of course; the only factor was that it would be hard to memorize the different locations they led to. Other first years were not so optimistic. One, a small, curly-haired girl, nearly cried when Kyle explained that the stairs changed.

"What's the point system?" the boy called Nevada asked hesitantly, as they walked down a drafty corridor.

Kyle glanced at him, and his mouth twitched. "Snape left that out, huh? He did that last year too. If you do something well, the professors give you House points—that is, points for Gryffindor. If you do something wrong, say, you're caught out of your dormitory after curfew—which is very, very bad," he added. "Points get taken away."

"Only if you get caught," A boy with dirty blonde hair nodded. "Right. Got it."

Meridy giggled. "You don't say that to a prefect," she said, before she could stop herself. "You say, 'Oh…_really_?' And then you look timid and scared and ask if curfew is going to be _very_ early. Then Kyle here won't be looking for you personally when he's out patrolling the halls for miscreants."

Kyle looked at her sharply as the blonde's mouth fell open. "Whoa, there, Mel. You're well informed for a first-year." He looked displeased that she had figured out the system.

Melissa stuck her chin out, ready for a fight. "My aunt told me that the prefects patrol at night," she told him stoutly. Merlin! She was already rousing suspicion. "And the rest is common sense. Raoul there shouldn't so much as breathe a hint of rule-breaking in front of you, or he'll never have any peace, because you'll have labeled him a troublemaker."

"I might label _you_ a troublemaker too, for knowing so much, little first year," he told her, threateningly.

His partner, a tall, pretty girl with the Head Girl badge laughed. "Ignore Kyle," she said, softly. "He's just upset that you've figured us out. Well done…is it Melissa? You'll go far. I didn't know what _miscreant_ meant until my third year."

Kyle just scowled.

Meridy smiled shyly at the Head Girl, and ducked her head. She hadn't meant to cause a sensation. But she couldn't have let the boy's bravado slide, not when all of the Gryffindor first years would be judged by the actions of the loudest. She despised arrogance. It was so very, very useless.

The Head Girl led the way up to the Girl's Dormitory, smiling back at the first years. "I hope you all have a lovely year," she told the five girls. "Breakfast begins tomorrow at seven, and classes at eight. My name is Angelica Tulane. If you have any problems, anything at all, just come find me. I'll be in the seventh year girls' room, a few flights up."

The girls all murmured thanks, shy and exhausted. They trooped into the room.

There were five four-poster beds, with their individual trunks beside each. Without speaking, the girls each made their way to their trunk.

Meridy cleared her throat, suddenly feeling nervous. "Wait," she said, in a small voice.

The other girls hadn't heard her. They kept right on walking. She had barely whispered.

Meridy took a deep breath. "Wait!"

It worked. They turned, surprised.

"Don't you think we should—well, get to know each other?" she asked, awkwardly, awed at herself for speaking and regretting the fact that she had begun to do so in the first place. "I mean, we're going to be sharing a dormitory for the next seven years of our lives. Wouldn't it be nice to know each other's names, at least?"

The other girls looked at each other, surprised. "I guess," a petite girl with curly gold hair said uncertainly.

"Come on. If we're going to share classes and lives, the least we can do is try to be friendly," Meredith said, with fractionally more confidence now that someone had responded. "I mean, we don't have to be _friends_, if you know what I mean. But we're going to be working together a lot. It would be nice if we got along, and were friendly enough not to be miserable sharing a room, and comfortable enough to share—" and she cut herself off. She had been about to say secrets, but that was hardly fair. She had nearly forgotten again. "Share our lives," she finished, lamely. All right, so they probably thought she was an idiot.

The girl, Jacqueline Shepherd, shrugged. "Well, I think you're right," she said. "My mum says that the first year at Hogwarts, you run around like a chicken with your head cut off, trying to figure out who everyone is and how you fit in. _I _think it wouldbe nice if we could already know each other, and work together so we don't look like stupid little first years."

Now the brunette girl was nodding. "My brother's a second year. He made fun of me all summer because I was going to be a first year, confused and pathetic, he said. I'd like to prove him wrong, and then have, like, the first year girls prank the second years, because he says first years can't prank."

Meridy felt hope inside her chest. So they didn't think she was a total loser. "Really? That would be great. What about you two?" she asked the two remaining girls worriedly, the blonde and the girly-girl with nut-brown hair. "What do you think?"

The blonde nodded. "That would be fun," she said, echoing Meridy.

The girly-girl appeared to think about it, her nose wrinkled in exertion. "Sure," she said at last. "Why not?"

Meridy actually smiled. "Exactly. So…who _are _you all, if you don't mind me asking?"

A couple of them laughed. "I'm Krista," the brunette blurted out. "Krista Jansen."

"Nellie Pinkerton," the blonde confessed. "I know it's an odd name."

"Jacqueline Shepherd," Jacqueline said. "But everyone calls me Jacquie."

"I'm Alyssa Havensmith," the girly-girl told them importantly.

They looked at Meridy. "I'm Me—" she said, and the breath caught in her throat. She had been about to say Meredith. "Melissa Black," she finished. "But call me Mel."

"You know," Alyssa said, critically. "I could have sworn I'd seen you before somewhere, Mel."

Meridy's heart pounded. "Probably not. I, uh, didn't go out much, before coming here."

Alyssa continued to survey her, until Jacquie said brightly. "Well, now that we've all been introduced, let's exchange one random fact about ourselves, and…go to bed!"

Meridy laughed, grateful for the distraction. "Fun! Who starts?"

"I will," Krista said, cheerfully. "I have a brother named Thomas, and he's the most annoying creature around!"

"My favorite book is _The Secret Garden,"_ Nellie chimed in next. "It's a muggle novel about a girl who comes to England after being orphaned, and discovers a kind of magic."

Meridy's lip twitched. She had always appreciated irony.

"I get very, very angry when people are being too noisy for me to sleep," she said sheepishly. "I'm a morning person, all cheery and optimistic. But if you won't let me sleep at night…"

"I want to be a model for _Witching Today_," Alyssa said brightly.

Meridy glanced at her. She was certainly pretty enough.

"And I want to play Quidditch for Gryffindor," Jacquie told them. "Chaser."

"Now, having been properly drawn into each others' lives, we may sleep on it, and learn more tomorrow," Meridy said teasingly.

Alyssa and Nellie stared as the other two giggled, and Meridy realized that she'd used too many big words. Much more of that and they'd think she was stuck up. That's what the Greek girls had thought, anyway. "Sorry," she amended. "In other words, good night!"

Shaking her head, Alyssa turned away. "Mental," she muttered. "I'm sharing a dorm with insanity."

Meridy couldn't help it; she laughed.

In bed that night, she smiled to herself.

Her first day as Melissa Black had been a success.


	3. Chapter 3

Ginny watched her husband pace with half-exasperation, and half-amusement.

"For Merlin's sake, Harry, if you want to know what House she's in, just owl her," she told him.

Her hero refused to look at her. "It'll look suspicious if an orphan receives mail from her dad," he said testily. "She doesn't want a father; she won't get a father. I wouldn't be surprised if she got Sorted into Slytherin."

"Harry Potter," his wife said, in an extremely dangerous sort of voice. "Take it back, or you'll have bat bogeys hanging from your eyebrows. Our daughter is _not_ a Slytherin. She's just confused right now. She _does_ want a father…she's just frustrated by all of the thrice-cursed reporters who keep asking her why she isn't more like you. Did you ever enjoy being compared to James?"

"Yes," Harry said heatedly. "I was _happy_ that people thought I was like him."

"She's not you," Ginny said simply. "And imagine if people had constantly shoved it in your face that James was better looking…a hero…a better flyer…and it was _so_ unfortunate that you hadn't inherited his talent."

"People don't say that about Meridy!" Harry said, somewhat angry at the prospect.

Ginny frowned. She pulled a paper out of a drawer. "Look at this article. It came out a month ago, in that economic magazine she reads for some reason."

Harry took it, and scanned it.

"They didn't say anything so bad," he said, after a few minutes. "Only that she was solemn, and spent more time talking to the tradesmen than the press."

"For which they called her standoffish," Ginny said, pointing down the paper. "And when they were describing each of us, you were 'our charismatically handsome hero,' and Michael was 'adorable…and so bright!' They called _me_ the 'lovely lady at Harry Potter's right hand.' What did Meridy get? 'A strange-looking girl…solemn…and oddly standoffish.' How do you think that made her feel? To have proclaimed to the entire world that…who wrote this? Ah, Jacie Kilborn…that Jacie Kilborn thinks she's odd."

"Well, if she made more of an effort to talk to the press…" Harry began.

Ginny cut him off with a frustrated sigh. "Harry, she doesn't like attention! She's camera-shy. She hides it well, but she is. And all of the comments over the years have made her extra-sensitive, and self-conscious. Don't be hurt because she was excited about getting away from people like Jacie Kilborn and Rita Skeeter, who, I'll have you know, called Meridy 'a rude, bothersome little girl…not at all resembling her attractive parents,' after Mer asked her if she always fabricated her articles, or if she only did so when the subject at hand wasn't sufficiently villainous. Rita would have said worse, but Hermione was with us that day."

Harry laughed, and then looked guilty. "That's just like Meridy. What did Rita do to invoke her wrath?"

"Asked her how it felt to be the black sheep of Harry Potter's perfect family," Ginny said glumly. "I wasn't there, and Hermione was out of earshot, but Michael told me a few days later. You were in Romania for a meeting by that time, and when you got back, the Hogwarts letter had come. But Michael said Mer shot back something about fabric. By that time, though, Hermione had walked over, seeing sparks, and she told me what Meridy said."

Her husband's green eyes flashed. "Rita Skeeter—"

"Is a perfect old cow," Ginny supplied, calmly. "I know. I was going to tell you when you got back, but the Hogwarts letter came, and in the ensuing chaos, it slipped my mind. But don't you think you can cut Mer a little slack? She doesn't think she fits in, in our family."

Harry didn't say anything, but his the tight muscle in his jaw had relaxed considerably. His eyes were still angry, but at the moment, Ginny suspected it was more for Rita Skeeter than for Meridy.

"I'll just floo McGonagall sometime," he said, distinctly, instead of answering.

She shook her head as he went clattering up the stairs.

He really was hopeless sometimes.

The next morning came too early, even for Meridy. She suspected that all of the excitement the day before had made her extra-tired, and that she would adjust to the new schedule better tomorrow. Still, she woke happy and exhilarated about learning magic.

Her dorm mates were not so optimistic. "It's too early!" Alyssa moaned.

Meridy shook her head, and went to take a shower.

Breakfast was fantastic. There was every kind of breakfast food she could want, and so she ate a little bit of everything. It was all delicious.

"Close your awe-fallen mouth, first year" the Prefect Kyle teased, evidently in a better mood this morning. "I _told_ you the food is excellent. Maybe you'll believe me next time."

Meridy was almost offended, but thought better of it. She nodded, but Kyle had gone back to conversing with his sixth year friends. Now that she thought about it, he was the fourth upperclassmen who had spoken to her in less than twenty-four hours.

"I thought the older classes were supposed to ignore first years, except to try and trip them up," she muttered.

Sandy had heard her, sitting across the table. Apparently being an upperclassman gave her supersonic hearing, and the ability to participate in two conversations at once.

"That's the way it used to be, yes," she said. "And the way it still is, to a point. But last September four first years transferred to other schools because a group of troublemakers scared them off. So this year McGonagall told the prefects not to isolate the first years, and to make more of an effort to make you all feel welcome, and to look after you, so you're not caught alone and intimidated by bullies."

Meridy was distinctly annoyed to hear that. What kind of sick person got pleasure from tormenting kids? She didn't care that Kyle and Angelica probably only talked to her because of something McGonagall had said. It was still nice of them to comply, and if _she _was old and smart, she probably would rather talk to her year-mates than stupid little firsties, too. But something was bothering her.

"You're not a prefect," she pointed out, to Sandy.

The older girl shrugged. "Last year was really stupid. There were a bunch of Slytherins who would literally wait around and terrorize young Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs. And they were never caught."

"Did any Gryffindors leave because of it?" Meridy wanted to know. _She _would never give in to that kind of pressure.

Sandy smiled, grimly. "No."

After a moment, she said, "But I don't mean to scare you. I probably would have talked to you anyway, besides all that. You remind me of my little sister. She's way too bright for her own good, too. And you have a strong magical aura, did you know?"

Meridy frowned. "No, I don't," she replied. Her mum or dad would have told her, if she did. And weren't people with strong magical auras supposed to be very powerful? She just _wasn't._ Her dad was, and her mum was pretty strong too, but she didn't take after them. Hadn't it been said, over and over and over?

Furthermore…her _parents_ didn't have strong magical auras, did they? She'd know if they did…wouldn't she? How could you tell? She _had_ noticed that the atmosphere was different around Mum and Dad than it was with most other people. But wasn't the atmosphere around your parents _supposed_ to be different?

Sandy gave her an odd look. "Yes, you do," she said, with certainty. "Here at Hogwarts, we study magical auras—not until fourth year, though. Your aura is the air around you and the way you affect it. Yours isn't noticeable, precisely. But if you feel for it, it nearly knocks you down. It's one of the strongest I've ever seen on a first year, along with Jonathon Troy's and Jack Weasley's. They're second years, now."

Meridy's confusion increased. Jack had a strong magical aura too? Well, of course he would. He was Jack, tall and strong like his father and smart like his mother. And he had an authority about him that his younger cousins always succumbed to, not because he was a tyrant, but because he was good at making people come together.

But before she could say anything else, the bell that signaled it was time to go to class chimed magically through the Hall, reverberating past the tables and out into the corridor to chase itself through the school.

She spotted Jacquie rising from the table a little further down, and flew to catch up. The first year girls had walked down to breakfast together, but there hadn't been enough seats left for them to sit together. Meridy hadn't minded very much. It had been nice, talking to Sandy and Kyle.

"What do we have first?" she panted, looking at the schedule she had been given.

"Transfiguration…with Professor Lupin," Jacquie said. "And the Ravenclaws. And," she said dropping her voice. "I heard a rumor that Professor Lupin is a _werewolf,_ from a third year."

Meridy shook her head. "Really?" she said, as casually as she could. Being uninitiated was so very, very hard. She had known that Uncle Remus was a werewolf her entire life, and had loved him all the better for it. Aunt Tonks didn't mind, and neither did their daughter Madeleine nor their son James, so why should any of the rest of them?

"Well, that's just what I heard," Jacquie said, shrugging.

Inside the class, Lupin took his place behind his desk, and looked at them impressively. "Welcome to Transfiguration," he told the class simply. "One of the most difficult subjects offered at Hogwarts. But you need not fear. We will embark upon the journey together. For the moment…Toran Ashan?"

A tall, dark-skinned boy raised his head uncertainly. Lupin nodded. "Melissa Black?"

She realized that he was calling roll. She raised her hand, a little hesitantly. Uncle Remus' eyes lingered on her, and she could have sworn they were laughing. Then he moved on to the next person.

After roll, he stood with one foot on a chair, casually. "You are here to learn the art of Transfiguration. That is to say, altering an object so that it becomes another object. Did everyone buy the textbook?"

A sea of nodding faces. He nodded, too. "Good. Then let's get started."

Twenty minutes and quite a few note pages later, they were all given a match, with the expressive purpose of trying to turn it into needle. Meridy looked over her notes. It seemed straightforward enough, if you got past the waffle about theory. First, you had to want, really want, the match to become a needle. You had to picture it exactly as you wanted it to be. All as you said the correct incantation, stressing the correct syllables, with the correct wand motions.

She spent a few minutes practicing the wand motion, until hers precisely matched the diagram in the book. Then she spent a minute more learning to correctly pronounce the incantation, which was _Nelriendo, _emphasis on the next-to-last syllable. Then she looked around at the class. They were all red in the face, they were trying so hard to do the motion and the word at the same time. But most of them were doing it wrong; they needed to learn the parts separately before they could effectively put them together.

Meridy shrugged, feeling nervous, and looked at her match. _Here goes nothing,_ she thought, as she closed her eyes to picture the perfect needle.

"_Nelriendo!"_ she cried.

There was a flash of white light, and when it was gone there was a silvery needle where the match had been. Meridy grinned, feeling pleased with herself. Her first spell, with her new wand.

"Well done," Professor Lupin said, wandering over. "Was that your first try?"

Meridy nodded, and he smiled at her. She grinned back.

"Look here at Ms. Black's match," he called to the class. "It's not a match anymore."

They crowded around to see it, and stared at her with a combination of awe and irritation. Suddenly feeling shy, she ducked her head.

Maybe she'd just keep it down after this.

"What did you think of the classes?" Krista asked in their dorm that night, bouncing on the bed.

Meridy grinned. "I really liked them. Transfiguration's going to be a challenge, but it'll be so useful. Charms is interesting too. I like it, because it's subtle and mischievous, whereas, like Transfiguration just slaps you in the face. Wasn't History of Magic a bore?"

Krista rolled her eyes. "I don't see how you stayed awake to take notes," she said, grudgingly.

She shrugged. "Well…it's still important to have notes, you know, even if Binns just drones on and on. And the notes themselves were actually pretty interesting. I like history."

"Oh no. You're not one of those overachievers, are you? Like, those people who are always nagging their friends to do their homework and color-code their notes?" Alyssa demanded, from her position on _her_ bed, where she was painting her fingernails.

Meridy shrugged. "No," she said. "Not really. I just like doing things well. But I won't pass out at exam time, or anything."

"Exams _are_ important, though," Nellie said fretfully. "You have to pass them to get into second year."

"We've the whole year to worry about it," Alyssa said impatiently, brushing this concern aside. "Did you see any cute boys today?"

Meridy bit back a smile. She _knew _that Alyssa had been going to mention boys. The pretty girl had that air about her. Boy crazy.

"I think Nevada's cute," Krista said bravely.

"Ooh!" Nellie squealed. "Really? Me too!"

Alyssa tossed back her shiny hair. "He's not bad. But did you see the tall redheaded boy who came into Transfiguration with a note for Professor Lupin? _He_ was cute."

Meridy nearly retched. _Jack_ had brought a note into Transfiguration today. "I'm not partial to redheads," she said, to tease Alyssa.

Alyssa tossed her hair. "Good. More for me. But did you hear? His name is Jack, which means that he's _Jack Weasley._"

"What does that mean?" Jacquie asked.

"Are you _serious_?" Alyssa wanted to know. "Do you even live in Britain? _Jack Weasley. Harry Potter's _nephew."

"So?" Jacquie said staunchly, and Meridy wanted to hug her. "I don't make a point to memorize the names of Harry Potter's extended family. The most I know is that he has a daughter named Meredith our age, and she's supposed to be really rude and really ugly."

Meridy felt cold. "You shouldn't believe everything you read," she said slowly, and Jacquie and Alyssa turned to look at her. "You know the reporter who wrote that—she—was rude and—and unattractive, Rita Skeeter?" Jacquie nodded. "Then you should also know that she wrote a story calling Harry Potter himself 'Disturbed and Dangerous,' years ago, making out that he was a manic lunatic, in his fourth year. The Minister of Magic himself believed the story, and until it was evident that Voldemort really _was_ back, people accepted Rita's story as fact."

"Really?" Krista said. "I never heard that."

She nodded. "Why would you? People never like admitting that they made a mistake, and Rita will do anything to get a story. Don't judge Harry Potter's daughter, or anyone else, because she's annoyed Rita Skeeter."

No one said anything. Feeling quite irritated, and as if she'd said too much, she climbed into bed.

"How do you know that?" Krista blurted out.

Meridy thought quickly. "I have a third cousin who works at the Daily Prophet. He comes around for tea sometimes, and tells us stories. He showed me the article, because I didn't believe him when he told me."

Krista nodded. "That makes sense," she said. "It's just hard to imagine _anyone_ ever thinking anything bad about Harry Potter."

_Welcome to my world,_ Meridy thought, bitterly. Out loud she only nodded.

Nellie yawned. "It's getting late," she said, speculatively.

"So it is," Meridy said, shortly. "I'm going to bed."

Charms class was going to be fun, Meredith realized the next day, when they started looking at the theory. Professor Flitwick spent a half hour teaching, and then ordered them to split up into partners to practice the spell he'd set them. Meridy took an extra minute to elaborate on her notes with examples from the book.

When she looked up, Jacquie had already paired up with Krista, and now Alyssa was standing by Nellie. Meridy looked around, and saw the Slytherin girl from the train standing alone.

She took a deep breath, and walked over. "I need a partner," she said bluntly.

The girl looked around mockingly. "What's the matter, Gryffindor? Couldn't find a partner from your own House?"

"Rich words, considering the rest of the Slytherins have paired off," Meridy said. "Work with me?"

This was apparently the right thing to say. The blonde girl nodded. "I'm Allison," she said.

"Melissa," said Meridy.


	4. Chapter 4

"Come flying," Allison urged on Tuesday morning, a smirk on her face. Meridy had run into her in the library, an hour before classes were to begin.

"I don't fly," Meredith said shortly, feeling her stomach knotting.

"What? The brave Gryffindor is scared?" the blonde shot at her.

Meridy rounded on her. "I don't fly because my father did," she said shortly. "Before he died. If he hadn't flown that day, he'd be alive now." It was even partially true. The first part, anyway.

Allison folded her arms. "So what, _Gryffindor?_ Are you going to let your father's actions dictate your life? I thought you were reasonable. Do you really think you honor him by living in fear?"

It was the most she'd ever the girl say. And what's more, Allison was right. She'd been letting her father's actions dictate her life.

Without a word, Meridy swung her leg over the broom.

Allison arched an eyebrow, and followed suit. A moment later, she shot off.

Meridy gritted her teeth, and rose up, hurtling after the other girl.

A strange thing happened. Her stomach relaxed, and suddenly she was having the time of her life. All right, so maybe Dad wasn't so wrong about flying. It was amazingly fun.

She laughed out loud, and feinted left, curving right to hurdle inches above Allison.

"Whoa," the blonde said, eyes snapping, as she dove out of the way and circled back up, stopping her breakneck speed mere feet away, causing Meridy to flinch. "For someone with an irrational fear of flying, you're a quick study."

Meridy shrugged, falling sheepishly back. She was glad she was talking to Allison instead of her roommates. "I lied."

"Oh, yeah? Then why the hesitation at first? It's not your first time on a broom, either. You're flying like you've done so all your life."

Meridy swiveled to face her, almost losing her balance. "Actually, it is my first time. I wasn't lying about that. I _do_ have a problem with flying, and it _is_ related to my father. But it's not fear."

"Care to share?" Allison asked, sarcastically. "And don't lie; you're a bad liar."

She laughed. "Whatever. I had you going. Well—my dad was supposed to be this amazing flyer. When he was at school, he was a Seeker. Everyone always compares me to him, and I hate it. I mean—I'm glad he was good at flying. But every time I meet someone new, it's 'Oh, you're _his_ daughter,' and then they talk about how I'm not a bit like he was, and how skilled and athletic and good-looking he was. I love—d my dad, but sometimes I want people to look at me and—and see M—Melissa sometimes, you know? Not who _he_ was, but who _I_ am."

It was dangerously close to the truth, and Meridy turned moodily away.

"That's stupid," Allison said bluntly. "He's part of who you are, like it or not. And it's obvious you've inherited his flying, if he was so good at it. But that's not all, is it? It wouldn't make any sense if that were all."

"I wish you weren't smart," Meridy muttered. "My roommates are _so_ much less clever than you. You're right; that's not all. But I don't want to talk about the rest. Merlin knows I have to live with it."

Allison nodded. That was the good thing about her; she didn't press for information. Probably because she didn't care enough. Or maybe because she'd learned, in Slytherin, that not all secrets were good.

"Want to race?" Meredith asked her, after a pause. "Back to the broom shed? And we'll have to stay low; otherwise they can see us from the castle."

The other girl smirked. "If you want to lose. But it's highly unlikely we'll be seen. The castle's ages away."

"I don't mind it," she laughed. "Fine. Whatever."

"Then you're on," Allison said. "One—two—three—go!"

Caught off-guard, Meridy shrieked "Hey!" and hurtled after her.

Allison was an excellent flyer. She flew flawlessly, dodging obstacles and cutting turns dangerously close.

Meridy set her chin, and resolved to cut it closer, speeding up. She was lucky dodging the rocks; but at the very edge of the forest, a couple of branches grazed her face, painfully.

But it was worth it. When she came out of the forest, she was ahead.

Allison leaned forward, to coax more speed from the broom. Meridy did the same, feeling the competition leap up in her blood.

Suddenly, Allison swung wide, and came back to bump her. Meridy yelped, and nearly fell off, before looping over and bumping her back, then focusing on the broom shed, which was only a hundred feet away.

They both were straining as much as they could. Meridy narrowed her eyes focused every particle of her being on getting there first.

Allison didn't slow down as she reached the shed. Meridy kept glancing at her, and waiting for her to slow down. But she didn't. And so Meridy didn't either.

They were closer now—twenty feet. Then fifteen. Then ten. They were too close; they were going too fast. They were going to crash—

Next thing Meridy knew, she was within five feet of the broom shed, and then everything went black.

"Wake _up,_ Black, you idiot! If you've gone and killed yourself I'm going to _murder _you. You didn't turn!"

If Meridy's head hadn't hurt so much, she might have heard the actual fear in Allison's voice. As it was…

"You're supposed to turn?" she asked, groggily, opening her eyes.

Allison exhaled. "You moron! How else were you going to stop from crashing?"

"I didn't know," Meridy protested, much offended, beginning to sit up.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Allison demanded. "Don't move! Is anything broken?"

Meridy lay back down, quickly, and winced as her head swam. Carefully, she tried moving each joint, feeling acute pain.

"You weren't slowing down; I wasn't going to eith—ah!" She'd found something that hurt.

The Slytherin looked her over, concerned, and shook her head. "You're crazy, Black. And you need the Hospital Wing. A bang like that was bound to knock something out of place, though I'm inclined to believe you already had a couple of screws loose. Merlin. You're lucky to be alive. The school brooms are slow, but to crash into a wall going twenty miles an hour…"

"I can't go to the Hospital Wing!" Meridy said, plaintively, feeling her forehead for blood. There was quite a lot of it.

Allison gave her a look that told her she was being dumb. "Listen to me," she said slowly. "There is blood everywhere, your arm appears to be broken, and unless I'm _very_ much mistaken, there is something seriously wrong with your head. Madame Pomfrey won't ask _very _many questions, and you can always refuse to answer. You don't exactly have a choice."

"Yes, I do. I always have a choice. Look at that butterfly," Meredith said dreamily. "Isn't it pretty?"

The other girl looked alarmed. "Come on," she said, grabbing Meridy's arm and helping her up. "Can you walk?"

"Yep," Meridy said, and then staggered as white stars appeared in the corners of her eyes and obscured her vision. When her head stopped swimming, she was on her knees.

Allison gave her another look. "_Liar._"

"I can walk," Meridy protested again. "It's just that my head feels funny."

"I wonder why," the blonde girl growled. "Come on. The sooner you get to the Hospital Wing, the better. And Merlin knows how many people are going to see me walking with you."

"I'm wounded," Meredith said. "Literally. And deeply injured. After all we've been through together—"

"Shut _up_," Allison told her. "Walk. We don't want anyone coming along and seeing the state of the broom shed."

Meridy looked and saw that several boards were knocked in. She winced, rubbing her head. "Did I do that?"

"Yeah, well, it'll be much better if we can get you healed before it's discovered," Allison told her. "Otherwise you might be associated with it. Lucky Quidditch hasn't started yet. And funnily enough, the school broom seems to be fine. I always knew they made the Comets out of rocks."

Meridy nodded, and then froze as the white stars out came again and her knees buckled.

"Don't _do_ that!" Allison cried, exasperated. "Don't you _ever_ learn?"

"Sorry," she said feebly, feeling stupid and disliking the sensation. "I forgot."

Allison rolled her eyes, and they continued up the hill in silence.

"I've never met anyone like you," Allison said, suddenly, as they reached the castle doors.

"And if you're lucky, you won't again," Meridy muttered.

Allison smirked. "One can only hope. But…I'm kind of glad I did, even if you _are_ a moron. Don't tell anyone; I would hate for it to get around school that there's a Gryffindor worth something in the world."

"What, just because I crashed into a shed because I wanted to win?" Meridy asked, cynically.

Allison smiled. "Yes. I can't believe you're in Gryffindor. You're much too intelligent, aside from the whole crashing into the shed thing."

Meridy scowled. "Gryffindors have Potions tomorrow with the Slytherins. Do you want to be table partners, or would that be too much for you?" she asked, amazed that she was able to force the words coherently out, and even more amazed that the thought had formed coherently. "I hear Snape makes the first years work with a table partner."

"Why?" the other girl asked bluntly.

"Because none of _my _House has thought to go illegally flying yet this year," she replied, equally bluntly. "And if they did, they probably wouldn't understand crashing into a shed to win, except maybe the boys. And I did win. You have to give me that."

Allison scowled. "Fine. You want a table partner in Potions? You got it. Snape'll stare and give me dark looks and my year mates will probably curse me in my sleep, but whatever. It's on your conscience."

"Hey, mine'll do the same," Meredith said. "What's life without a little revolution? Uh-oh—person." She ducked behind a statue.

Allison rolled her eyes and waited until the fourth year had passed to pull her out. "The old ways are the best," she said, continuing their conversation. "I don't like change."

"No Slytherin does," Meridy said cheerfully. "But it's good for you. And this isn't much change—just something to get people talking. The school needs talk, you know. The wind from gossip is what holds the walls up."

"You're insufferable," Allison proclaimed. "But—you might be right. I'm in."

"Good," Meridy said.

Another person rounded the corner. Meridy nearly fell back, not wanting to be seen looking like something the cat dragged in, until she saw who it was.

"What eez zis?!" Aurelie exclaimed, coming to a dead stop, her inborn French accent coming through, as it always did when she was startled. "Mer—child, what have you done?"

"Nothing," Meridy said sheepishly. Aside from the fact that Aurelie had almost just said "Meredith," it had just occurred to her that although Aurelie wouldn't tell on her to the professors or prefects, she might very well tell her mother, who would owl Mum before the week was up. She chanced a glance over at Allison, who was watching the scene with narrowed eyes.

Aurelie gave her a sharp look. "I do not believe you. Are you going to the Hospital Wing? That arm looks broken, and there is certainly something wrong with your head."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Meridy complained. "My head is _fine_."

Her beautiful cousin almost smiled. "There has always been something wrong with your head. Hospital Wing? _Now,_ or I will call a professor." Her eyes found Allison for the first time, in Slytherin colors, and she frowned. "Have you been dueling?"

"No," Mer said grumpily. Why would she assume she was dueling, just because she was bloody and accompanied by a Slytherin? That wasn't fair. "This one's a good sort. Even if we had dueled, then _she_ would have been bloody, too."

Aurelie continued to look suspicious. "Isn't your brother Gary Malfoy?" she asked Allison.

Allison's chin jutted out dangerously; she was back into her cool Slytherin exterior. "Yes. So what?"

"Don't judge her because of who she's related to, Ar-lee," Meridy pleaded, a dark undertone in her voice—surely Aurelie would remember why her little cousin was here today under the name of Black. "And _I_ think Gary's a good sort, too. He helped me with my luggage by the train."

Aurelie shrugged her magnificent shoulders. "I was not judging. Only wondering. His Transfiguration scores are excellent, and Professor McGonagall was speaking of him yesterday."

Allison's jaw relaxed, and her stance was no longer quite so rigid. Meridy took one look at her and decided this was one girl who had spent her entire life being judged because of her family. No wonder they got along—kind of.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Hospital Wing—NOW," Aurelie told her, and continued down the hall, her nose in the air. Meridy and Allison started off in the other direction.

"I didn't know you had met Gary," Allison said, suddenly, after they had walked a ways in silence.

Meridy shrugged, much as her cousin had done moments before. "Only in passing. He helped me with my trunk on the train, like I said. I didn't realize the two of you were related."

This was apparently the right thing to say, because the other girl's shoulders relaxed. But she changed the subject.

"If a Ravenclaw thinks we were dueling, then what are your classmates going to say if we work together in Potions?"

"That it's unfair for the two brightest people in the room to be sharing a cauldron," Meridy said, staunchly joking.

Surprisingly, Allison laughed. "Fair enough. Who was the Ravenclaw, by the way?"

Meridy counted to three before she answered, to distance herself mentally from her cousin. "That's Aurelie Delacour-Weasley. Her mum is friends with my aunt, so I've talked to her a couple of times before."

"She's beautiful," Allison said with a frown. "Weasley? Not Harry Potter's niece?"

"I believe so," Meridy replied, carefully. "Her mother was a Triwizard Champion, years ago."

"And her father Harry Potter's brother-in-law," Allison finished.

There was silence for a few moments. This early, the halls were still mostly empty and quiet. Allison was still frowning.

"What do _you_ think about Harry Potter?" Meridy asked, curious.

"Me?" Allison asked. "What does it matter what I think?"

"It matters to me," Meredith said quietly. "What do you think?"

The Slytherin girl appraised her face, ponderingly. "My dad and brother hate him," she said at last. "I know he's a national hero and everything, but he did some really mean things to my dad at school."

Because this fit in with the stories she'd heard her own Dad tell about a boy called Draco Malfoy, Meridy wasn't really surprised.

"Do _you_ hate him?" she asked.

Allison thought about it a minute, and then nodded. "Yes," she said. "Everyone thinks he's such a big hero. Like a god or something. But…he's only a person, isn't he? I won't go so far as to call him a lousy person, respecting your Gryffindor pride, but I don't think it's right to make a person out to be so fantastic that they're flawless."

"He can't help what the press says," Meridy protested, finding this unfair and working to keep the anger from her voice. "And he's not flawless. He's dreadful at wizard's chess, and he can't read tea leaves to save his life. And he _is_ a hero. He can't help that, either. To him, it wasn't a noble or brave act for him to kill Voldemort—it was just something that had to be done."

Allison didn't gasp, but her eyes narrowed. "You said the Dark Lord's name," she pointed out.

"Fear of a name increases fear of a thing itself," Meredith said quietly. "Harry Potter is quoted as saying that all the time. And he would know, wouldn't he? He probably felt Voldemort's wrath more than any Death Eater."

Now Allison's eyes were burning, like coals. "You have no idea what you're talking about," she said, but they were at the Hospital Wing door, and it was open.

Meridy walked in, not liking the wall that had risen up between them. She was trying not to be angry. Dad wasn't lousy! He had nearly _died_ fighting Voldemort, so that Allison and her family could walk around freely and not worry about being killed.

_Except that her family was probably full of Death Eaters_, she realized, with a jolt. _I bet they would have been happier if Dad had lost_—

"Good heavens!"

Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse, had seen her and was hurrying over. "_What_ on earth happened?"

"Erm..." Meridy figured that she should try to offer some sort of explanation. "I fell down the stairs, and I think I hit my head."

The nurse gave her an exasperated look. "You certainly did."

And she made Meridy, who was protesting all of the way, lie down on a bed while she fetched some cleaning solution, threatening her with horrific curses if she moved or went to sleep. As she did so, Allison slipped out of the door.

"I'm going to have to inform your family that you have been injured, Ms. Black," Madame Pomfrey said, about midmorning. She had flat-out denied the girl's protests that she was fine and could go to class, adding darkly that if she wasn't quiet she would have to spend tomorrow in the hospital wing as well.

Meridy wondered if this meant Mum and Dad, or the surrogate great-aunt who was living a suitable distance away. She preferred the latter.

The door to the Hospital Wing clanged, and Professor Lupin walked in. He came to stand by her bed.

"You weren't in class, Ms. Black," he told her, his mouth twitching. Then he frowned. "And none of your classmates knew where you were. They said you were gone when they woke up."

Meridy nodded, and then winced. "I was."

Uncle Remus glanced over at Pomfrey, who was going into her office, out of earshot. There was no one else in the Hospital Wing this early in the term.

"It's not safe to go off alone," he told her. "Hogwarts is a big place; it's easy to get lost or hurt. And we've had a lot of problems with older students picking on first years the last few terms. Your father would never forgive me if I let you get away with sneaking around by yourself."

"I wasn't by myself," Meridy protested.

He arched an eyebrow. "Then who were you with? All of your year-mates were in class, free of head injuries."

She ignored the jibe. "I was with Allison. We were just walking around."

"Yes, certainly," he said. "Allison who?"

Meridy avoided his eyes. "I don't know."

"You're a bad liar, Meridy," he told her, with amusement. "Were you dueling?"

"No!" she cried. "Honestly, if I'd been dueling, don't you think my partner would be in here with me?"

"Not if he or she was older than you," Remus told her.

She rolled her eyes. "You have such faith in me. No, it was my fault. I, um, might have done something stupid."

"Really?" he asked, with mild interest, and checked the chart by her bed. "A broken arm, a severe concussion, additional head wounds, and numerous lacerations requiring immediate attention, including that interesting one across your face, and you _might_ have done something stupid?"

Meridy scowled. He continued to read the chart. "Fell down the stairs? Now, that's interesting. You've always been so coordinated. And, oh—look at this. Pomfrey has noted that she cleaned tiny traces of wood out of the lacerations, especially the interesting one on your face, and also notes that there was a leaf in your hair when she was checking the concussion. Have our staircases grown over with plant life, or have you been in the Forbidden Forest?"

"Neither," she said defiantly.

"Then what's your explanation?"

She shrugged. "I have none. C'mon, Uncle Remus. You ran wild in the forest when _you_ were at Hogwarts—Aunt Tonks told me. _We_ weren't actually in it. Cut me a little bit of slack. I'm not stupid. I may have gotten a concussion, but I'm not going to get myself killed."

Harry cut open the letter, seeing the Hogwarts seal and feeling his stomach clench. Ginny came to stand beside him, frowning. "Harry, what—? She began.

"Notice of Injury," he read, and groaned in disgust. "It's only the third day of term."

"Didn't Remus say that there have been several incidents in the last few years of older students cornering the younger ones and frightening them?" Ginny asked, worried.

Harry's eyes flew open wide, and he read on. "'The student in question, Melissa Black—' Wait, Black?"

Ginny nodded, and took the paper from him. "That was the name she chose. Black, after Sirius. You would know, if you had talked to her any last week. Anyway—'The student in question, Melissa Black, was hospitalized at 7:32 A.M. this Wednesday morning, after suffering a severe concussion, numerous lacerations requiring medical attention, additional head wounds, and a broken arm.' Sweet Merlin. What _happened_?"

Harry took the paper back, and read on. "'The student reported falling down stairs as the source of the injury. Complete and speedy recovery is expected. Further notes: old wood fragments were discovered in lacerations, all except for the face laceration, where young oak bark fragments were found. Student had leaves in her hair.' Falling down the stairs, my foot."

"Well, before you start worrying, Lupin sent something too," Ginny said hurriedly, and her words were not unnecessary. A thundercloud had begun to settle on her husband's face. "Maybe he can explain."

Harry took the offered note, and opened it.

_Harry-boy,_

_I'm sure that by now you've gotten the school's 'Notice of Injury.' This morning Meredith wasn't in my class, and none of her classmates knew where she was. They said she had left the dorm before they had woken up. So after class, I went to the Hospital Wing—where any child of yours can be found when unaccounted for. _

_She wasn't off wandering alone, and she wasn't in the forest, so don't be too hard on her. I couldn't coax out of her what had happened, but Madame Hooch's flying class of Ravenclaws this morning discovered a couple of brooms moved—which is allowed, by the way—and a Meridy-sized hole in the broom shed wall. Aurelie saw her walking back to the school all bloodied up with a girl named Allison. My guess is that they were racing to the broom shed, and Meridy crashed rather than lose, because she apparently didn't know to turn, according to Aurelie, who came up the Hospital Wing and forced it out of her, and Allison didn't slow down. I wouldn't have thought you would let your daughter off to Hogwarts without teaching her elementary broom safety, but she'll learn better this way. The word is that she won the race._

_So don't be too hard on her. And remember how many times during _your_ first year you ended up in the Hospital Wing. _

_Best,_

_Remus _

Ginny started laughing.

"It's not funny!" Harry told her, fiercely. "She could have been killed."

"Oh, Harry," she said. "People don't die from crashing into broom sheds. They just get cut up."

"And concussed," he said. "I can't believe she was so foolish. _Obviously_ the other girl wasn't going to crash, just to win. That's just absurd. I thought Meredith had more sense than that."

"Come on, Harry," Ginny told him. "Was it just my imagination, or did Ron tell me a story one time about how in your first year you agreed to a wizard's duel with Malfoy at midnight—having no idea what a wizard's duel was?"

"That was different," he said, affronted. "Malfoy was a little toerag—still is."

"But you ran into Fluffy, and you could have been seriously hurt," Ginny told him. "It's no different at all. Give Mer a break. At least she wasn't wandering about alone or playing in the forest. She was just racing a friend. Unlike you—you were going to duel someone after curfew."

Harry still looked mutinous.

"We were amazingly lucky. We could have died any number of times. When I think of some of the risks we took…" he shook his head. "But Meredith's not going to be like Ron and I were. She's going to stay out of trouble, because there's no guarantee that she'd be as fortunate as we were. I don't want her to have to deal with half of the situations we got ourselves into. Starting _now._"

"What happened?" Jacquie asked, that evening. She had come to visit Meridy after dinner, upon being told that she was in the Hospital Wing.

Meridy smiled, but it was rueful. "Fell down the stairs."

"Ouch," her classmate said, sympathetically. "Did it hurt?"

She thought about it. Had it? "I don't really remember," she said. "It knocked me out. And then my head felt so strange. But my arm hurt a lot."

Jacquie nodded. "I bet. Are you going to stay the night here?"

"Yes," Meridy sighed. "Madame Pomfrey says I have to, for monitoring. But I get to go to class tomorrow, and work on homework later. What did I miss?"

"We had our first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson," Jacquie told her. "And we had Herbology, another History of Magic. I brought you the History notes and assignment. Defense is going to be fun, I think. Herbology's interesting, all about plants and such, and we have an Astronomy lesson tonight."

Meridy flopped back against the pillow, feeling overwhelmed. Third day at school and she was already behind. "I hate missing things," she said, plaintively.

"It shouldn't be hard for you to catch up," Jacquie said consolingly. "You're really good at magic, and you can copy my History notes."

The girl on the bed let out a sigh. "Well, that's a relief at any rate."

_Meridy,_

_What do you think you're playing at, flying near the forest before daybreak? It's not safe—it's downright dangerous. There are all sorts of funny things in the forest, and very few of them are friendly. And who was this girl you were with, who let you race about your first time on a broom without telling you how to stop? Remus says that none of your classmates knew where you were. _

_Don't let me hear of you trying anything like that again, or I'll have Remus put a cow bell around your neck and follow you around. Really, Meredith, you could have shown a little more sense. You could have been killed. Flying isn't just a game. It's serious, and if abused then it's dangerous. I don't care if you won or not. _

_And I think it would be nice if you helped Hagrid rebuild the broom shed this Saturday—don't you?_

_Dad_

Meridy read the letter, and let out a sigh of frustration. _Drat_. How in Merlin's name had he found out about the race? Or the broom shed?

The injustice of it made tears sting her eyes. They hadn't gone into the thick of the forest. And it wasn't Allison's fault she was stupid. It had been an accident. It wasn't as though she had _meant_ to get a concussion and a broken arm. And having to spend twenty-four hours awake in the Hospital Wing doing homework while Madame Pomfrey monitored her consciousness had been punishment enough.

It was really no fun, being Harry Potter's daughter, she thought, for the thousandth time. And here she'd thought she'd gotten away from that.

Jack had hung back, to see what it was. When he saw that she was crying, he looked alarmed. "Hey—don't cry, Mer," he said, looking to see if anyone was around. No one was. They had all gone to class.

Wordlessly, she sniffed, and handed the open letter to him. His eyes scanned it, and his expression grew grim.

"That's harsh," he said, and hugged her, awkwardly. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't know any better. I probably would have done the same thing."

His words meant more than she could say. Jack was probably the only person in the world who knew how much her dad's opinion meant to her. She sniffed again.

"Uncle Harry's just upset that you changed your name," Jack continued. "Mum says that he's emotionally fragile, and that he lashes out when he feels betrayed. Dad says that's a load of baloney, and that it just hurt Uncle Harry's feelings that you wish he wasn't your father."

"I don't," Meridy protested. "I just wish—"

"That people would stop judging you by him. I know," Jack filled in, aggrieved. He'd heard it for most of his life. "Look, I get it. I have to live with the people who say, 'You're related to Harry Potter. You should be better at Defense,' too. I can't imagine what it must be like to be his _daughter._ But Uncle Harry doesn't get that, I think. I think he just thinks that you hate him."

"But I don't," she said, miserably. "I wish I was more like him, and I hate it that I'm not, and people keep telling me that I'm not. It's not easy, being the Chosen One's daughter."

"_I_ know that. But I don't think Uncle Harry does."

The bell clanged, telling her that they were late to class.

"Drat," she said, and her voice was muffled. "I'd better go to class. I have Defense. I missed it Wednesday."

Jack nodded, sympathetically. "Keep your chin up," he said.

"I will," Meridy said. "I'm sorry you're late."

He shook his head. "Don't be; I have Transfiguration with Uncle Remus. I'll just explain it to him after class; I need to talk to him anyway. But _you_ need to go to Defense. Professor Hawkins is new. There's no telling if he'll give you detention or make you the practice dummy for the day."

Meridy nodded, and set off down the hall as Jack disappeared into the Transfiguration classroom.

"So Ms. Black has finally decided to join us," Professor Hawkins said when she walked in. "Concussion free? No more broken limbs? What's your excuse?"

Meridy had just gotten herself under control, but with the whole class looking at her, she felt like crying again. She _hated_ people staring at her. "No excuse, Professor," she said, meeting his eyes tiredly.

He nodded, but there was a bit of a frown about his face, and he searched hers intently. "We'll let it go, this once," he said, after what seemed to her an eternity. "Find a seat."

She flashed a grateful smile at him, but it trembled, and she quickly slid into a seat at the back of the room. Alyssa was trying to catch her eye, but she kept her gaze low, not wanting to talk.

"Well, as Ms. Black missed Wednesday, we worked on disarming," he told the class. "Let's split off into pairs and practice, shall we?"

Meridy got out her wand and her book, thumbing through into she found the section on disarming. She began reading.

When she looked up, Professor Hawkins was standing beside her. "The incantation is _Expelliarmus,"_ he told her. "Let's try it, shall we?"

Numbly, she stood up. "What's the wand motion, sir?" she asked.

He showed her. "Now try it," he said.

Why was he making her try it before she'd gotten the notes or even read the section on it? Meridy wondered, somewhat angrily. She was in a bitter mood. No one else seemed to be having any success, and they'd worked on it Wednesday. Why was he picking on her? She would catch up.

She tried it. "Expelliarmus," she said, dully, and his wand twitched.

"Focus, Ms. Black," he told her. "Concentrate. You'll never manage in this class if you don't get this."

Fine. She had made up her mind that he was making an example of her because she had been late. He wanted effort? Bloody hell, he would get effort. Her temper rose. She hadn't even looked at the theory!

"_Expelliarmus_!" she cried, brandishing her wand.

There was a loud popping sound, and her teacher was thrown backwards five feet into a desk. His wand hurtled to a point some three desks behind her.

Uh-oh.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Meridy said, flying over to him. "It was an accident, I didn't mean to—"

"It's all right, Ms. Black," Professor Hawkins said, picking himself up with dignity and going to fetch his wand. "But I think we've learned something, haven't we? Our magic and our emotions go hand in hand. We must learn to exercise control over both."

"I don't—" Meridy shut up. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Her eyes were probably still red, and she had never been very good at hiding how she felt. Her face was like a window, Mum said. Easy to look into.

"Take three deep breaths, and focus," he urged her.

She did so, feeling stupid.

"Now try again," he instructed. "And this time—control!"

Meridy took another moment to push down her irritation. She took another breath, imagining the anger and frustration draining out of her, and leaving her calm and serene as the lake.

"_Expelliarmus_," she said, clearly.

His wand flew neatly into her hand.

"Good," he said, with approval. "Very good."

Meridy smiled, feeling accomplished.

And then she realized that the entire class was halted, staring at her.

"I want to talk to you, Uncle Remus," Jack Weasley said later that day, before lunch.

Remus Lupin smiled. "Does this have anything to do with you being late to class today?"

"…" the boy said fairly. "But we're waiting for Aurelie."

Now Professor Lupin frowned. "Aurelie?"

Jack nodded, as the fourth year part-veela rushed in. "Sorry, I had Divination in the North Tower," she said breathily, a bit winded.

"What is this, a family meeting? Where's Meridy?" Remus asked, teasingly. This was his adopted niece and nephew, and he was as fond of them as he was of Meredith.

"Actually, we want to speak with you about Meridy," Aurelie said, sweeping her long blonde hair back from her face.

Remus frowned. "What is it?"

"We don't think it's fair of you to tell Uncle Harry about Meridy," Jack said. "He wrote her a note today, and it really upset her."

"Uncle Harry and she are at odds," Aurelie continued, giving her professor a severe look. "I never dreamed that you would tell _him _about the broom race."

Remus held up his hands in surrender. "Hey! Give an old professor a chance to speak," he said. "First off, the 'Notice of Injury' your Uncle Harry was sent mentioned several things that didn't add up—falling down the stairs, mainly, while also noting twigs and leaves in her hair. If I hadn't given him a logical explanation, it's quite likely he would have stormed up here and demanded it from McGonagall, who would have discovered the truth and given both girls detention. I was trying to help. He's not very logical when he's upset, and he would have assumed something much worse."

Jack nodded. "That's fair enough," he said. "But I still think it needs to stop. Meridy wanted a chance to be someone new, and she's not going to get that if Uncle Harry hears about every little misdemeanor she's involved in, and writes to yell at her and order her to make amends."

"It might help if she didn't get hurt," Remus told him. "I can't stop Poppy from sending out injury letters." Then he frowned. "Harry did what?"

"Sent Meredith a letter ordering her to help 'Agrid to rebuild z—the broom shed," Aurelie said, making an effort to diminish her creeping accent, for she had learned French alongside English. "You do not write _my _father if I am found in trouble. This much stop."

"This _needs_ to stop," Jack added. "It's not helping Meridy. She hates it that her dad's mad at her, and she doesn't need to be reminded of it every time she makes a mistake. Uncle Harry made mistakes, too, and no one yelled at _him_. You should hear Mum tell the stories."

"She already feels terrible about everything with Uncle Harry," Aurelie finished. "You informing him of everything that she does won't help. Let her be. She'll be all right without her father knowing her every move."

Remus thought about it. The children had a point, and it was good of them to stand up for Meridy. There was steel in their gazes now, beautiful Aurelie and direct Jack. They would go far, he thought with pride. And they had been taught well, to be so loyal of a little cousin. Even against her own father, he thought, and frowned.

"Well?" Jack asked, bluntly.

The werewolf sighed. "You do know that Harry's likely going to be very upset with me, don't you?" he asked, stalling.

"He's not the only one who's upset," Aurelie pointed out.

Remus nodded. "Fair enough. All right, I surrender. No more writing to Harry about Meridy. Not," he added "Unless it's an emergency."

Jack nodded. "That's all we ask, Uncle."

"Thank you," Aurelie said, suddenly. "We don't mean to order you around. It's just—I get a fair bit protective of Meridy sometimes, and I know Jack does. It's just that she's so young, and so sensitive. She's vulnerable, and needs looking after. I know you were trying to do that, but it's only hurt her more. It made me so angry, to see her go from such happy little girl to such a sullen child when reporters came out. It was like she put on a mask," her cousin shuddered. "And there was a different person, because she was hurt, and when she's hurt she puts up a fine mental wall. She would get angry and take it out on Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny. Now she has a chance to outgrow that hurt, and that insecurity, and to make her own name. I think we should let her."

Remus smiled. "I know what you mean. And you're right. She does need room to grow, and time for her wounds to scab over and heal without someone rubbing salt in them, which is probably inadvertently what Harry did. But it's not his fault, you understand. He's only worried about her, and wants to keep her from getting hurt, and he most certainly has the right to. He can't know what it's like, to be in his shadow. He's always facing the light, so he's probably never even seen it."

"Real life metaphors," Aurelie sighed. "But he doesn't have the right to inside information on his daughter's life, just because he's Harry Potter."

Remus laughed. "Get to lunch, both of you. I can only take so much berating in one day, especially from two students so much _younger _than me."

Aurelie smiled, and Jack chuckled. "Thanks, Uncle," he said. "We knew you'd understand."

His nephew's trust meant more to him than he could say, and Remus was young when he grinned. "Jack?" he said, as the boy was at the door.

Jack turned. "Ahuh?"

"Take Meridy out early one Saturday, while everyone else is sleeping, and teach her how to fly properly," he said. "We can take care of that, at least."

Jack nodded, appreciation of the idea showing itself in his face, and disappeared through the doorway.

_Dear Harry,_

_Well, it seems I've been rooted out. Jack apparently thinks that you upset Meridy with your last letter, for he and Aurelie cornered me this morning to tell me that they don't think it's fair of me to tell you what goes on with Meridy here at Hogwarts, not any more than I have a right to disclose as Head of Gryffindor House. They demanded that I cease correspondence on such matters. It was quite touching, how indignant they were. They're Molly's grandchildren, certainly. _

_Unfortunately, they've got a point. It's _not_ fair of me to tell you things that I don't tell other parents, and under severe browbeating, I've promised not to discuss Meridy at Hogwarts with you any more, not unless there is an emergency._

_I hope Ginny's well, and Michael—_

_Moony_


	5. Chapter 5

Meredith walked into the Potions classroom with her head held high, and her jaw clenched. It had been a long morning.

"That's the girl that fell down the stairs," a Slytherin girl hissed, and Meridy looked away. "On the third day of term; have you ever heard anything so pathetic?"

"That's what the teachers think," she heard a voice reply, scornfully. "I heard that there were twigs and leaves in her hair, like she'd been in the forest."

There was a pause, and Meridy chanced a glance over. The second voice was standing beside Allison. Allison shrugged, and then picked up her cauldron. "Well, anyone who goes into the Black Forest alone has _my _respect, Gryffindor or not. I'm going to go talk to her."

The first Slytherin girl, the ice queen Dawn Kurtis, shrugged. "Whatever," she said. "As you like."

Allison came to set her cauldron at Meridy's table. Meridy had purposely gotten to class early, so as to avoid questions by her classmates, at least at first. There was no way she could make them understand this.

"Insanity must be catching," Allison announced, sitting down. "You've had it, and I've caught it."

Meridy grinned. "If you don't want it, give it back."

"No. You'd only knock yourself out again," Allison told her coldly, but there was a hint of a smile about her mouth.

Meridy laughed. She was glad that Allison wasn't angry, after their disagreement yesterday. Obviously, it was forgotten for now, for neither of them was speaking of it.

The rest of Gryffindor came in, uneasily.

They all looked around, saw half the room empty, and made their way towards it. Then Alyssa spotted her; her jaw dropped, and she nudged Nellie, who pointed, and whispered to Krista.

Pretty soon all the Gryffindors were frowning at them, as well as the Slytherins, who had been muttering nastily ever since Allison had sat down. Murmurs broke out across the room.

"Well done," Allison hissed in disgust. "Now they've labeled me a Gryffindor lover."

Meridy shrugged, but the murmurs made her uneasy. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. And I'm sure that you'll have ample chance to prove them wrong," she added, somewhat irritably. "You're not the only one who's going to be pounced on later."

"Well, it was _your_ idea," Allison pointed out queenishly.

"So? You went along—" the Gryffindor shot back testily, and stopped as the classroom door banged shut.

"Silence," Professor Snape snapped.

The class was silent.

"I come in here, expecting to instruct an unorganized jumbling of baboons, and what do I find? A _loud_ unorganized jumbling of baboons," he said, glaring malevolently at the Gryffindors. "There will be order, or there will be failure. Toran Ashan?"

Meridy kept her head lowered as Snape began calling role. Then Allison elbowed her.

"I repeat, Melissa Black?" Snape said, looking with a sour expression at the Gryffindor's side of the room.

"Here," she said quickly, shooting her hand into the air. "Sorry, Professor."

When his eyes found her sitting beside Allison, away from the rest of her House, he frowned, for some reason. "See to it that you respond promptly, Ms. _Black. _Time is valuable in this art."

"Yes, Professor," she muttered, and class went on.

"What do you know about Melissa Black?" Professor Hawkins asked, a little at random.

McGonagall frowned, and answered carefully. They had been discussing his Defense classes. "She's a first year. Why?"

"Who are her parents?" he asked, abruptly, instead of answering.

McGonagall turned to face him. "Ms. Black is one of a very few special cases in the school, in terms of familial confidentiality," she told him, seriously. "I will tell you as much as I can if it will help you to understand her. Why do you want to know?"

"She missed my first class on Wednesday," he said. "I was told that she was in the Hospital Wing. Then today she came into my room late, clearly upset about something. Her classmates seemed baffled. We were working on Disarming, and I asked her to try it on a hunch, before she had a chance to copy the notes or read the chapter. She has an amazingly strong magical aura for her age."

McGonagall nodded, noting that she'd seen Jack Weasley receive mail from a large white owl that morning—not Ron or Hermione's. She'd watched, concerned, as he slipped a note into his younger cousin's hand, and sighed. If she knew Harry Potter, he would have been horrified that his baby girl had gotten hurt, and, in light of the recent estrangement, was likely to be rather blistering in expressing his horror.

"Her father did, too, when he was a first year," she said, shortly. "But he wasn't raised in wizarding society, and so he wasn't as receptive to his magic—or as conscious of it. He had a troubled home life, and it took him a few years to reach a point where he could take advantage of his magical strength. Melissa doesn't seem to have that problem, being raised a witch, but she's had to deal with some…irregular situations, and it's made her magic a little less tamable. But she's bright, and reasonable; she won't let it get out of control."

"She blasted me across the room today with a Disarming Charm," her professor confessed ruefully.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "Really? How does she seem to be settling in with her class?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm here. She's obviously intelligent, and precocious. I'm concerned about how she's adjusting to Hogwarts, and whether or not she's a positive influence on the other students."

"Hmm." That hadn't occurred to her before. "It's a valid concern. But if I know Mer—Melissa, then she'll keep her head down as much as possible. If you don't draw attention to her, then her classmates probably won't resent her. She'll become very theatrical in her failures if they start thinking she's a show off. As for her adjusting, I wouldn't worry. She'll be fine. She has other students whom she's close to, to go to if she needs them."

Giles Hawkins nodded. "I suppose questions would be pointless?"

McGonagall almost smiled, but caught herself. "Quite. And…I wouldn't advise trying to track her friends or her activities. She'll only surprise you. Don't worry about her. She'll take care of herself."

"She's hiding something," Giles noted. "Is it something that I need to know?"

"No," she answered bluntly. "If you pay hard enough attention, you might figure it out, but it's something I won't thank you to spread around."

She could tell that Giles wasn't satisfied with this, but she was unwilling to tell him anything more. True, there was no harm in it—but knowing Meredith's situation as she did, she was quite eager that the girl make herself known for something else—herself.

It was only fair, after all. Meredith would go back to her family when she was ready, when she realized that she wouldn't find herself by pretending to be someone else.

Until then, McGonagall was quite willing that she enjoy herself.

"Come on," Jack said, early one Saturday when he found Meridy up doing homework in the Common Room. "Let's go flying."

Meridy gingerly touched the three slashes on her face, which were crooked and angled weird—almost like a lightning bolt, she'd thought sourly, the first time she'd seen them. Several of her classmates had said the same.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "My last flying experience was less than successful."

He scrutinized her. "So I heard. Well, I don't care. You've got to learn to fly properly if you're going to be off racing Slytherins."

"Hey!" she protested. "How did _you_ know about Allison?"

Jack gave her a surreptitious look. "She's a Malfoy," he said, as if that explained everything. "Her older brother's Gary Malfoy. He's trouble—and apparently, so is she."

"It wasn't her fault," Meredith said grumpily. "I wasn't thinking."

"We can fix that," he told her. "C'mon."

On the walk down to the Quidditch pitch, he said, as if he couldn't restrain himself. "You know, those cuts on your face kind of look like—"

"Shut up," his cousin growled. "I don't want to hear it."

Jack appeared to be fighting some sort of internal battle. When he burst out laughing, it was apparent that he had lost.

"At least they're on your cheek and not your forehead," he said, by way of consolation.

Meridy only nodded.

"We need a study group," Meridy commented, the fourth week of class, working on her homework in the library one evening.

Allison looked at her, and raised an eyebrow. She'd been doing the essay for Flitwick alone when the Gryffindor had come in and, in defiance of tradition, sat next to her. "Why?"

"For homework," Meridy said, the wheels in her head turning. "For example, the both of us are rubbish at Herbology, but Leda Pearson, in Hufflepuff, is amazing at it. And Kali Gordon's great at Transfiguration, and really good at explaining the theory. You're fantastic at Potions, and I've got Defense and Charms." She paused and nibbled on the end of her quill. "And I've got a roommate who's a walking star chart for Astronomy, and I hear there's a Ravenclaw guy who knows absolutely everything there is to know about Magical History. Imagine if we all worked together for an hour or so each evening. We could all help each other."

"You'll never get the Houses to all work together," Allison said bluntly. "It's impossible."

Meridy shrugged. "Maybe. But there's no harm in trying, is there?"

The next day, she told her roommates about her idea.

"I don't think it's going to work," Krista said doubtfully. "We don't exactly get along, do we? And the Slytherins are so mean."

"It's a dumb idea," Alyssa told her.

Nellie and Jacquie said nothing.

"What about you guys?" Meredith asked. "Would you come once, just to try it?"

Jacquie shrugged. "Sure, I guess. No harm in trying it, is there? And I think all of this inter-house hate is stupid."

Meridy grinned. "Great! What about you, Nellie?"

Nellie shot a look at Alyssa. "I don't know."

Undeterred, Meridy nodded, and ran off to breakfast, where she made a point to talk to Leda Pearson and Kali Gordon from the train and tell them about her idea. She managed to convince both of them to meet her in the library the next Monday at six, and to bring friends.

That afternoon, she put a sign up on the Common Room notice board, telling first-year Gryffindors about a study group in the library. She didn't mention that people from other Houses would be there. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them—not yet, anyway.

The following Monday, she gathered her books and made her way to the library at a quarter to six.

It was empty, except for some sixth years. Meredith tried not to be discouraged. She sat down at a medium-sized table, telling herself that it would be presumptuous to claim a larger one.

Five minutes, passed, and then ten. She was starting to feel disheartened when Leda walked in, along with a Hufflepuff boy named Christopher and a girl named Salina. Leda saw her, waved, and started over.

"Hey!" she said. "Is this it?"

Meridy shrugged, trying not to feel sorry for herself. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Well, I need help on that Defense essay," Leda said practically. "Aren't you good in there? You got Expelliarmus the second class." Hufflepuff and Gryffindor had Defense together.

Feeling slightly better, Meridy got to work. At 6:04, Nellie walked in, closely followed by Jacquie and Nevada Mills.

They had barely all been introduced when Kali showed up, bringing along with her Baron Nottingham, who was very smart and very studious.

Things were tense at first, but Meridy was determined to make them feel at ease, cracking jokes and trying to talk to Leda and Kali. Finally, things loosened up, and the Houses started mingling. It turned out Christopher and Nevada had been friends growing up, and Baron soon earned their respect by his avid interest in Quidditch. Leda and Nellie got along very well indeed; they had something of the same humor.

All in all, it was a success. Halfway through, Allison came into the library with books under her arm. Meridy gestured for her to join them, but Allison only scowled at settled down at a table by herself.

"Isn't that your Potions partner?" Nellie inquired, following her gaze.

Meridy nodded. "Allison," she said.

Leda frowned. "She's in Slytherin. She seems really cold, like the rest of them."

"She's not." Everyone turned to look at her. How could Meridy explain her friendship to them? "Well, I mean, kind of, but not really. She's actually pretty nice. When I, uh, fell down the stairs, she helped me to the Hospital Wing." She crossed her fingers, hoping Allison hadn't heard her. Her Potions partner would never forgive her for calling her 'pretty nice.'

Baron looked up. "I heard a medical intern say that there were leaves in your hair when you came into the Hospital Wing," he said.

Meridy winced. "Isn't that strange?"

"Rumors get started so easily," Kali remarked, shaking her head. "How many ounces of beetle eyes go into the Laughing Potion, again?"

The study group became a regular meeting, and in time gained more members from every house except Slytherin. Allison continually refused to "drop by," and so eventually Meridy stopped asking. In the mean time, it was nice to talk with people from other houses, and her plan of trading off academic strengths was effective, because it rarely favored any one group of students but helped them all indiscriminately. Professors began to remark, as more and more people joined the group, that this year's batch of first years did more of their homework and got better marks for it than any other year.

None of the study groupers bothered to explain. If working together for an hour or two every night convinced their instructors that they were brilliant, then it was nothing they cared to correct.

Meridy's twelfth birthday passed virtually unnoticed in October. Jack whispered "Happy Birthday," to her before breakfast, knowing that, being an ultra-cautious Meridy, she would want to keep the day of her birth quiet, from those fanatics like Alyssa who seemed to know everything about Harry Potter's family and might put two and two together.

The day was busy enough that she didn't think about it all that much. Aurelie smuggled her a card by means of Uncle Remus, who gave her a clever cat paper-weight that she immediately placed on her desk in the dormitory.

It wasn't until that evening, when she was in bed, that Meridy started feeling odd. She'd never not been with her family on her birthday before, or even gone without some press reporter showing up to snap pictures.

The first tear had made its way down her cheek, and the second, before she realized that she was homesick. Not so much for a party, because there had been some years when they'd been traveling and hadn't had time. But for her family.

Her mom, who sang like a lark in the mornings, and always told her she was beautiful, even if the paparazzi didn't think so. Her little brother, who was affectionate if confused as to why his 'Mery' didn't like Mum and Dad's fame, who at eight years old, was brave and bright enough to step in front of a reporter who had asked her why she didn't take up Quidditch and retort that Mery could do anything she wanted, and when she did, it wouldn't be a decision she felt the need to discuss with the press.

Who, after smarting off to Greece's most vicious reporter, was only labeled "adorably loyal," rather than his Mery's "rude." But she wouldn't grudge Michael that. He was a beautiful, happy little soul, and she truly did miss him, missed shielding him from the worst of the press, even though he loved it, and the meanest of the I-only-want-to-be-your-friend-because-your-dad-is-Harry-Potter-ers, even though he didn't mind.

And if she was really, really honest with herself, she missed her dad. She missed traveling with him—they both loved traveling, and she missed talking to him when he came to kiss her goodnight. She even missed the way he got angry when the Grecian girls hurt her feelings, and the funny way he got all stressed out when she used a word that a normal eleven-year-old wouldn't know, like the time she'd called him and Mum 'itinerant proponents of justice and security."

Most of all though, after a month at Hogwarts, she missed herself. Missed being around people who knew her name, and knew that her dad's eyes were green and they smiled when he laughed. That she looked more like him than her mum or her brother. Melissa Black was fun, exuberant, outgoing.

But she wasn't Meredith Potter.


End file.
